


Let's Take A Chance On Happiness

by endless_grey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Accidental Relationship, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magical Accidents, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-War, Rimming, Sharing a Bed, Soulmates, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endless_grey/pseuds/endless_grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry works with Luna at her magical antique shop, and everything is going pretty well until a mysterious ring makes an appearance. Cue curse-breaker Draco Malfoy and an accidental bond, and suddenly Harry is magically married to his former nemesis. They need to break the bond before Hermione's fundraiser, but Harry doesn't remember "fall in love with the git" being part of the plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Take A Chance On Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> German translation is available [here on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13655562) by the lovely [FireflyingGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflyingGirl/pseuds/FireflyingGirl)

Harry wrapped the small pestle and mortar delicately, making sure not to crush the dried flower wrapped around the base of the bowl. Luna had insisted it was there for magical purposes, Harry was not as convinced. The lady he was selling it to though, Mrs. Finch, seemed to believe Luna and was raving about the use of flowers in the potion ingredient making process. Harry nodded in all the right places, focusing mainly on preparing the item for Mrs. Finch to take home. When he had wrapped it and taken a galleon for it, he handed it over with a smile, and told her to have a lovely day.

 

Mrs. Finch was one of the regulars at Luna’s antique store, ‘The Pixie In The Basket’. Harry wasn’t sure what the shop name meant, and when he’d asked Luna she had just replied “pixies in baskets, of course!”  like it was obvious. Luna, despite her dreamy personality, was a brilliant business woman and had a talent for finding and identifying rare and wonderful items for her shop, and the regulars loved her for it. As the shop had grown, she’d needed someone to help out, and Harry had been happy to offer his services.

 

Truthfully, Harry had been at a bit of a dead end before he joined Luna working at The Pixie In The Basket. Upon leaving school he had been convinced he was going to be an auror, after all, he knew nothing more than saving people and stopping dark wizards and witches. Just under a year into training though, he’d looked in the mirror and really asked himself what he was doing, and he couldn’t honestly answer that it was something he enjoyed. He looked tired and fed up, and not at all like someone who was fresh into a job they loved. After that day, he’d handed in his letter of resignation and left Ron to finish auror training alone. He and Hermione had been very supportive, although a little surprised, when a few months later he announced he was going to be working with Luna at the shop.

 

It had taken a while to settle in, it being so different from auror training and school, but he had found somewhere he felt content. The little shop was always welcoming, with an open fire in one corner, and wide windows that let in rays of sunlight all the way up to the wooden beams supporting the ceiling. The items in the store ranged from simple household items like chairs and wand stands, to more obscure items like books you had to sing to and dancing troll ornaments. The store was always full, tables and shelves piled high with Luna’s collections and even the furniture that wasn’t for sale was antique. They had an ancient, rustic looking wooden counter that the brass till sat on, and a couple of armchairs in front of the fire that occasionally walked off on their own. The carpet itself was a hideous, but homely, floral pattern with leaves that twirled around each other endlessly.

 

In the six months he had been working there, he and Luna had developed a comfortable routine, and Harry found himself feeling happy for the first time in what seemed like forever. If someone had said to him when he was fourteen that he would find happiness working in an antique shop, he would have laughed in their face. Yet here he was, surrounded by some of the strangest things he’d ever seen, and feeling surprisingly fulfilled.

 

As Mrs. Finch left, the little bell on the door tinkling, Luna came out from the back of the store.

“How’s it going, Harry?” she asked, busying herself with tidying the trinkets that covered the front of the counter.

“Good, we’ve made quite a lot today”

“That is good” Luna nodded.

“Has anyone bought the new nargle repellent?” She asked hopefully. Harry looked over at the leaves in the large basin by the window, which smelt strangely like garlic.

“Not yet” he replied. Luna nodded thoughtfully.

“Maybe we need to advertise them more” she said finally.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning when Harry arrived at the shop, Luna was already rooting through her new findings. Luna actually sourced almost all of the items available in the shop entirely herself, and every Wednesday they would look through her haul and decide if everything was okay to go out, where it should go, and how much they should charge for it.

“How was your morning, Harry?” She asked, picking up what looked suspiciously like a real finger.

“It was good, thank you” Harry replied, peering into the box.

 

He had actually spent the early morning with Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley. They had stopped in the Leaky Cauldron for a nice unhealthy English fry up and a good chat before they all started work. Luckily, it was a good location for them all to meet. Both Ron and Hermione were based at the Ministry, Ron still being in auror training, Hermione working in The Department Of Magical Law Enforcement, and The Pixie In The Basket was only a five minute walk down a side-road off Diagon Alley. They all tried to meet there at least once a week, and that morning had gone no different from their usual meals together.

“Are you seeing anyone yet, Harry?” Hermione had asked, as she did every week.

“No, you and Ron know that” Harry replied, using his fork to stab the yolk of his fried egg grumpily.

“You need to get back on the horse, mate” Ron advised.

 

It was no secret that Harry had been painfully single since his breakup with Ginny after they’d left school, but it had only been a year and a half. In that time, Harry had casually seen a few people, and realised he liked men as well as women, but nothing had been serious.

“You know we only want you to be happy” Hermione said sincerely.

“I am happy” Harry lied. It wasn’t that he was desperate to fall in love, but he did find himself daydreaming about having someone to care about, someone who was there for him, someone to laugh and cuddle with, someone to sleep with.

“See, you say you’re happy, but you’re doing that daydreaming thing again” Ron said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts.

“Hmm?” Harry asked, but then he caught a flash of white blonde hair out of the corner of his eye and his attention was immediately captured. It had looked like the person was heading down the side-road towards the shop, and it looked like that person was…

_Can’t have been_ Harry thought to himself.

 

Thinking back to that, Harry actually looked up from the box and peered around the shop as if expecting to see him just standing there. Luna caught him looking and glanced around too.

“What are you looking for?” she whispered.

“Nothing” Harry replied quickly, going back to rooting through the box, he was just being silly.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, they had worked their way through almost everything in the box, all the new antiques placed carefully in their rightful places and their prices displayed. Harry returned to the counter, having just put an extravagant peacock feather quill on a shelf near the front of the store, to find Luna inspecting a small metal case.

“What is it?” Harry asked. Luna held it up to the light and closed one eye, squinting at it intently, as though that would reveal something about it.

“It’s a ring” she replied, and she turned over the metal case so that Harry could look.

 

The top of the case had a clear glass pane, and despite the case being incredibly old and worn, the glass and ring inside were spotless. The ring itself was beautiful. Harry had picked up an eye for good antiques from observing and learning from Luna, and this ring did not disappoint. It was a pure, unbelievably shiny silver and adorned with a single ruby that protruded from the front, proud and blood red. As he tilted the box, it seemed to glitter, like it was coated with thousands of microscopic diamonds all catching the light at once.

 

Harry let out a low whistle, and handed it back to Luna.

“I know” Luna said, “It’s impressive”

That seemed to Harry like a slight understatement. The ring looked like it could easily be worth hundreds of galleons, and Harry was especially eager to hear more about it.

“Where did you get it?” He asked. Luna was still rotating the box slowly, peering at it from all angles, and Harry could see the glittering light where it reflected from the ring onto her face.

“I don’t remember picking this up” Luna replied. She was frowning a little, and Harry knew that must mean it was serious. Luna rarely frowned, especially about antiques.

“So what do we do?” Harry asked.

“I want to get it checked for curses, I can feel a spell on it” Luna answered. She handed the case back to Harry and hovered her fingertips over where it sat in his palm.

“Can you feel that?” She asked. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, he knew what to look for, dark magic always had a sludgy, cold feeling to it. They had received a few dark artefacts over the time Harry had been there that had needed cleansing. The ring however, didn’t feel cold and sludgy. He could feel magic exuding from it though, something powerful and thick feeling, but less grimy than dark magic.

 

“It doesn’t feel like dark magic” Harry said finally, opening his eyes.

“No, but it feels like something, doesn’t it?” Luna replied.

“Yeah, I can feel something on it” Harry agreed.

“I want to get it checked before we sell it. I know an independent curse-breaker who will help” Luna said, and then she was grabbing some parchment and scrawling an address on it.

“This is his address, just tell him I sent you. I would normally go myself, but I need to finish off these” Luna said, indicating to the last few items in the box.

 

Harry placed the case carefully in his jeans pocket, and then said goodbye to Luna. The address wasn’t that far from the shop, so he decided to walk, the weather was nice after all.

“Tell him I have the nargle repellent in now!” Luna called, just before the door tinkled shut behind him.

 

 

* * *

 

The address didn’t look too far away, and was surprisingly further down the side road that The Pixie In The Basket was on, rather than somewhere in Diagon Alley itself. Harry had always thought that Luna’s shop was out of the way a bit, but this shop looked even further off the track.

 

The little road grew windier the further down he walked, and he’d never had need to travel this far down it before. He’d only been walking for about ten minutes, and it already looked like he was on a different road all together. The cobblestones were less worn, like not as many people came down this far, and the buildings looked older. They still stood tall on either side of him, but there were increasing gaps between them where small, lush gardens hid. Ivy crept up stone walls and delicate white violets grew in the cracks between the cobbles. With the sun shining down as well, it actually looked rather beautiful.

 

When Harry finally found the address, he almost walked right past it. The building didn’t look any different from the ones around it, and it certainly didn’t look like a shop of any kind. Like the rest of the buildings framing the road, this one was all old grey stone bricks and wide windows sheltered by overhanging eaves. There was a flower basket hanging by the door brimming with lilac peonies, which Harry was sure were under a stasis charm to look that impeccable. Just underneath the shade of the basket was a small silver plaque which read “Independent Curse-Breaker, est. 1998. _D.M_ ”

 

Harry decided that since this was the building under the address Luna had told him, and the plaque did indeed confirm that it belonged to an independent curse-breaker, it must be the place. He walked up to the door, which was surprisingly imposing on such a quaint building. The knocker was heavy and made of cast iron, and when Harry let it drop it, he could hear the bell-like tone echo around the interior. When he heard unhurried footsteps from inside, he hastily stepped back a little, and then the door was opening enough for Harry to see a tall, lithe man with an unmistakable head of silvery blonde hair.

 

Draco Malfoy didn’t look like he had changed much in the year and half it had been since they’d all left school. His hair was less perfectly styled, still short and shockingly bright, but less slicked looking. A few strands had snuck their way onto his forehead, and Harry wondered how he managed to make wayward hair look tastefully tousled when on Harry it just looked like he didn’t own a hairbrush. He was still all slender limbs and painfully effortless grace, and was currently wearing a tailored suit similar to the one he wore a lot towards the end of school. It was dark colours and seams clinging to every line of his body, showcasing his figure like it was artwork. He also appeared to still wear his signature sneer when confronted with Harry Potter.

 

“Potter” Malfoy said finally. He had opened the door a little wider, and was leaning against the frame leisurely.

“To what do I owe this… pleasure” he continued, looking at Harry like he was something rather unpleasant. Harry was actually a little lost for words. Why exactly had Luna sent him to _Malfoy_ of all people? Was he really the independent curse-breaker she had been talking about? Harry had been hopeful that he would never have to deal with Malfoy again, after speaking at his trial to ensure his freedom, he had been sure that would be the last time he would see the man, and yet here he was standing on Malfoy’s doorstep. He was going to have a serious chat with Luna later.

 

“Are you the curse-breaker?” Harry asked, dumbly.

Malfoy looked pointedly at the plaque by the door.

“It would appear so, wouldn’t it?”

He had crossed his arms, and was watching Harry with increasing impatience.

“Do you actually want something, Potter, or did you come to stand on my doorstep and gawp?” he demanded. Harry felt his mouth close immediately, he hadn’t realised he had been gawping, how embarrassing.

“I wasn’t gawping” Harry said defensively.

“And yet we still haven’t got to why you’re here” Malfoy replied.

“Luna sent me” Harry replied angrily. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Malfoy’s shit today.

“Oh. You should have said so, if it’s for Luna it’s no problem” Malfoy said, and then turned on his heel and headed back inside.

 

Harry peered his head through the door. Was he meant to follow? Was that an invitation inside? He stepped through the threshold and wiped his shoes on the mat carefully. He then berated himself, it was Malfoy’s place, who cares if he got dirt on the floor? Some childish part of him still liked the idea of tracking dirty marks everywhere, because he knew Malfoy would hate it. He heard movement from a room to his right, and decided to head that way.

 

The room was only separated from the entrance hall by an ornate mahogany archway, and past that the pale tiles turned into cream carpet. The room was just as extravagant as Harry would expect from Malfoy. The walls were dark wood panelling, broken up only by the windows which were draped with burgundy silk. The rest of the room was minimal everywhere apart from the shelves, upon which a vast variety of trinkets resided, things that actually looked like they’d belong in Luna’s store.

 

Malfoy came through the other archway at the end of the room carrying what smelt like a cup of strong coffee. That’s when Harry noticed the room Malfoy had just come from was a kitchen, and suddenly he wondered if he was in Malfoy’s _house._ That would be too strange.

“Do you _live_ here?” Harry asked.

“That’s generally the definition of a home, yes” Malfoy drawled. He made himself comfortable on one of the sofas in front of the fireplace, and didn’t invite Harry to sit down. Harry did anyway. He grudgingly had to admit that the sofa was rather comfortable, even if it belonged to Malfoy. Part of him couldn’t get over the fact he was even here, sitting in Draco Malfoy’s living room. It was so surreal. Maybe he was dreaming.

 

“So what does Luna need?” Malfoy asked, and Harry suddenly remembered the steady weight of the metal case in his pocket. He took it out and handed it over, resolutely _not_ paying attention to the cool brush of Malfoy’s fingers against his.

“She got this and there’s magic on it, she wants you to check it over” Harry explained.

Malfoy peered at the ring similarly to the way Luna had, inspecting it carefully.

“I can’t see anything on it, but I can feel something”

“See anything?” Harry asked. You can’t _see_ magic.

“Yes. I can see magical traces, Potter”

“No one can do that”

Malfoy sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I made it up for fun” He said sarcastically.

“But how?” Harry asked.

“I’ve always been able to a bit, but it developed more when I trained as a curse-breaker” Malfoy said, he was now holding the ring up to the light.

 

Harry was trying very hard not to be impressed by that, or to want to ask more questions. He didn’t want Malfoy to think he was interesting, he had enough of an ego already.

“What does it look like?” Harry asked, the temptation to know proving too much.

Malfoy glanced over at him.

“Lots of things. Depends on the type of magic, who cast it, the intention…”

Harry was pretty sure that wasn’t a proper answer, but he decided not to push for one.

 

Malfoy held the case in the palm of his hand and closed his eyes, just like Harry had done earlier.

“It doesn’t feel dark” Malfoy remarked.

“We already know that”

Malfoy opened one eye a crack and frowned at him.

“ _As I was saying_ , it doesn’t feel dark, but there’s something very powerful on it” Malfoy said.

He opened his eyes and placed the ring down onto the coffee table. Harry vaguely wondered if curse-breakers were meant to have a proper work station or whether they could just place cursed items willy-nilly around the house.

 

With a flick of his wand and a muttered spell, Malfoy had opened the case and was slowly levitating the ring out. He placed it down carefully on the top of the case, which had snapped shut again as though on a spring. He then proceeded to sit down on the sofa in front of it, and hover his wand just a few inches above where it sat glittering impossibly brighter than it had in the case.

 

Malfoy passed his wand over the ring carefully, flourishing it in seemingly random places.

“What are you-“ Harry started.

“Hush, Potter” Malfoy snapped, and Harry stopped talking abruptly. Malfoy muttered a few words in what sounded like Latin, and then put his wand back in his sleeve.

Harry stared at the ring blankly.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well it doesn’t seem to be cursed” Malfoy said, “But we still shouldn’t touc-“

Harry had already reached out to pick up the ring, and Malfoy grabbed his wrist to stop him, but his fingertip had already made contact. There was the queasy, contracting feeling of apparition, and Harry closed his eyes tightly, feeling his stomach twist and the world spin, before a sudden calm settled over him. When he tentatively opened his eyes again, he expected to see a different location in front of him, but he was still standing unmoved in Malfoy’s living room.

 

Harry glanced down at where Malfoy’s hand was still vice tight around his wrist, his finger still pressed against the ring, which had now gone gold. Harry looked up at Malfoy, and opened his mouth to ask what in Merlin’s name had happened and why the ring had changed colour, but then he saw the expression on Malfoy’s face, and the words died abruptly on his lips.

 

Malfoy’s expression was one of equal horror and anger, and then his eyes were lifting to meet Harry’s, so full of fury that Harry felt himself flinch.

“What the fuck, Potter?” Malfoy demanded, voice echoing around the room.

“I didn’t-“

“You should _never_ touch an item suspected to be cursed” Malfoy exclaimed.

“But you said it didn’t seem cursed!” Harry argued, if it wasn’t cursed what was the problem?

“The word ‘seem’ being the key word there” Malfoy snapped.

“Well it’s only turned gold, what’s the big deal?” Harry demanded, Malfoy was acting like this was the end of the world.

 

“Are you telling me you don’t know what that means?” Malfoy asked, pointing at the ring. The fury in his voice seemed to have grown if anything.

“No, obviously I don’t” Harry replied. Malfoy still hadn’t let go of his wrist.

“You should know better! Did you learn nothing in school?”

“Oh yeah, I should have remembered the time you cursed Katie” Harry threw back angrily.

Malfoy’s mouth tightened, and his expression grew grim.

“I was actually referring to Defence Against The Dark Arts, but any opportunity to dreg up the past, eh, Potter” He spat. Yet, he still hadn’t let go of Harry’s wrist.

 

The bones in Harry’s wrist had begun to hurt with the pressure Malfoy was exerting on them, his fist seeming to get tighter every second.

“You should have told me not to touch it” Harry exclaimed.

“I didn’t think I was dealing with a first year!” Malfoy replied.

Harry abruptly yanked his hand back, and the motion seemed to shock Malfoy, as though he hadn’t noticed he was still holding on. Malfoy snatched his hand back like Harry was on fire, and they both stared at the bright red marks left behind.

 

“You had better explain everything” Harry said gravely.

“You’re not in any position to tell me what to do, since you and your Gryffindor impulsivity got us into this mess” Malfoy replied, but he was already heading towards the bookshelf to find a book that would explain. He picked out a big red book and carefully turned the papery pages until he got to the section he was looking for. He then slammed it down onto the table beside the ring and pointed at it expectantly.

Harry leant down and read the title of the page.

‘Bonding Rings’

He sucked in a sharp breath, he knew enough to know what that meant.

“Please tell me you’re joking” Harry whispered, suddenly he felt panicked, there was no way, _no way_ he’d survive being bonded to Draco Malfoy. Malfoy laughed dryly.

“Unfortunately not, Potter. Thank you for that. Would you like to cast the Avada Kedavra or should I?”

 

 

* * *

 

It turned out that the ring Luna had sent Harry to get looked at was actually intended to be used in a wizarding marriage ceremony. Apparently that particular spell didn’t show up during a curse search because it wasn’t really a curse. (Harry begged to differ). Malfoy would have done more searches if Harry hadn’t tried to pick it up, as he had reminded Harry about four times already.

 

“So really, it’s all your fault” Malfoy said. He’d made another cup of coffee, and taken a seat on his plush white sofa, leaving Harry to basically hyperventilate in the corner.

“So that was the apparition feeling?” Harry asked faintly.

“Yes”

“And we’re bonded?”

“Unfortunately”

“For how long?”

“Until I can break it” Malfoy replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

 

Harry was pacing up and down in front of the fireplace, and he was sure he’d wear a path in the carpet if he didn’t stop soon, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what this meant. The book had said that the bonding spell placed upon bonding rings was intended to be used only for couples who had been together a long time and were in happy, stable relationships. If the spell was used on two people who did not fit that description, the effects were unknown, although in one recorded instance the two people ended up killing one another. Harry paced faster, only pausing when he heard Malfoy make an exasperated noise from the sofa.

“Would you mind not destroying my carpet?” Malfoy asked, not raising his eyes from the book balanced precariously on his lap. He’d acquired some angular rectangle glasses from somewhere whilst Harry had been pacing, and Harry was shocked to find that the first thought that came to his mind was _attractive_.

 

“How are you so calm?” Harry demanded

“Believe me, I’m furious, I’m just better at controlling myself than you are” Malfoy replied.

“But you’re not panicking” Harry continued.

“Because panicking is counterproductive, and I am a curse-breaker. This is what I do” Malfoy turned the page carefully.

Harry made a frustrated noise and glared at the ring. If anything, the magic he could feel coming off it now was stronger.

“I need to tell Luna” Harry said quickly. He needed to get out of there, get some fresh air and some space. Malfoy didn’t look up from the book as Harry started towards the door.

 

It was as he passed through the archway that he felt a strange sensation in his chest. It almost felt similar to the one that had happened when he’d touched the ring, just more mild. Each step he walked towards the door though made it stronger, and he was reaching out his hand to grab the handle when he started feeling a little sick.

“Potter”

Malfoy’s voice sounded strained, and Harry turned his head towards the living room. He could see Malfoy through the archway, looking like he too was in pain too.

“The bond” Malfoy said, through gritted teeth. The words seemed to swim through the air before they reached Harry’s ears, and he reacted slowly, staggering his way back through the arch and towards Malfoy. No sooner had he passed the archway, the feeling stopped. Harry sucked in a shuddered breath and wondered for the second time how on earth he was going to survive this.

 

It appeared, after some brief experimentation, that they had to remain in the same room as one another or else the feeling started up, and the further away they moved, the worse it got. Harry was more panicked than before; he couldn’t even escape from Malfoy now. Malfoy on the other hand, seemed to be growing more and more exasperated.

“Pull yourself together, Potter, for Merlin’s sake” he exclaimed finally. They’d resumed sitting on the sofa, but Harry couldn’t sit still.

“Do you think you’re the only one who’s been inconvenienced by this?” Malfoy demanded.

“Inconvenienced!?” Harry exclaimed, “We’re basically married!”

“How will I work? How will you work?” Harry hurried on. Malfoy was staring at him.

“What if I want to go on a date?” He said. Malfoy snorted.

Harry looked up and glared.

“Oh, I’m glad you’re finding this funny” Harry snapped.

“Imagining your ‘love life’ _is_ pretty humorous” Malfoy smirked.

 

After more glaring and snipes, Malfoy suggested they go to The Pixie In The Basket and let Luna know what had happened. He carefully levitated the newly golden ring back into its case and sealed it tight. Neither of them were sure what to expect when they went outside, it wasn’t as though they could follow their rule of staying in the same room.

 

They walked in silence, and it seemed that as long as they stayed fairly close, the bond didn’t flare up. It seemed a much longer walk back to the shop than it had been when Harry had headed for Malfoy’s, maybe it was the bad company. Harry did have to admit though, that watching Malfoy walking up ahead of him did catch his attention far more than the beauty of the road. He flushed a little at his own thoughts and walked faster. They needed to get this sorted out as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

“How lovely!” Luna beamed.

Harry and Malfoy stared at her blankly. That was not the reaction Harry had expected when they explained that they’d been accidentally bonded by a mysterious ring.

“Two of my best friends are married!” She added in explanation, noting the confusion on their faces.

“We’re not married!” Harry insisted. There was no way he ever wanted anyone to refer to it like that in a serious manner.

“But you are, you have a bonding ring and everything” Luna replied, she looked even more excited than before.

“I’m breaking the bond, Luna, don’t get to attached to the idea” Malfoy said. She looked highly upset by the idea, but didn’t argue.

“How will I work?” Harry asked her desperately, as though she might have some incredible solution.

“Well you’ll both work here, of course!”

“No!” Harry said, just as Malfoy said “I can’t”

Luna looked between them calmly.

“Of course you can, Draco. You can work over there” She pointed to the corner of the store where the little open fire and armchairs sat, and then shooed him away to inspect his new work area, despite his protests.

 

“Luna, you didn’t tell me it was Malfoy!” Harry hissed, when he was sure Malfoy was out of earshot.

“Oh” She said, “I thought you knew”

Harry stared at her incredulously. How on earth was he to know that she’d somehow become best mates with Draco Malfoy, of all people?

“How have you not mentioned that you and Malfoy are friends all this time?” Harry asked.

“It never came up” Luna answered sweetly.

“How did this even happen?”

 

Luna explained in hushed tones how when she had been held hostage in the manor, Malfoy would often sneak extra food to her and check that they were all okay as much as he felt he could.

“If he had been caught, Voldemort would most certainly have killed him” Luna said solemnly.

“Draco was actually very nice to me, whenever he was able” She said.

 They both glanced over to the armchair where Malfoy was now sitting, looking bored. Harry couldn’t imagine him risking himself for anyone else, but then he was remembering Malfoy’s face in the manor when he’d refused to identify Harry to Bellatrix. The way he’d looked right into Harry’s eyes and recognized him, and then _lied_ to his family. That desperate, conflicted look was forever imprinted in Harry’s mind and he could see it now just as clearly as when it had happened. Malfoy had been so close, Harry had seen every emotion flit through those grey eyes, seen how scared he was, and then he’d felt the whispered breath of that lie ghost across his lips as Malfoy saved his life.

 

Harry swallowed uncomfortably.

“He’s not like he was in school, Harry” Luna whispered.

“He’s very polite most of the time, and he’s a very good friend” she smiled in Malfoy’s direction.

Harry still had trouble believing that Malfoy could be polite, even if he had to admit that maybe he wasn’t evil, like Harry had thought when they were young.

 

“Will I have to sit here listening to you whispering all afternoon?” Draco asked in bored tones.

“No, you can contact your clients and tell them to come here. Harry will carry on working” Luna answered, leaving Harry to stand in the middle of the store wondering what his life had become.

 

The rest of the day went without incident, Harry didn’t speak to Malfoy apart from when he had needed to use the toilet and realised with horror that Malfoy would have to be in the room. Harry had tried to convince himself that it was the same as using a urinal, but it wasn’t just strangers in the room, it was _Malfoy_. Malfoy had sighed like Harry’s bodily functions were highly inconvenient, and stood silently, looking the other way, while Harry used the loo.

 

Harry couldn’t help glancing over as Malfoy’s clients came and went. The way Malfoy worked was almost mesmerising. He was so graceful and controlled, each wand movement precise and delicate, and the movement of his lips as he muttered spells was distracting to say the least. How had Harry not noticed in school that Malfoy had really good lips? They were so pink and soft-looking. Harry flushed and stared aggressively at the painting he had been dusting. It glared back at him angrily.

 

When Luna flitted into the room to announce they could go home because the shop was closing, Harry was hit with new panic. _How could he go home when he and Malfoy had to be in the same room?_ Malfoy seemed to have realised the same thing and was staring at Harry with a faint look of horror on his face. Just as Harry opened his mouth to vocalise his concerns, Malfoy was putting his hand up to stop him.

“We’re staying at my house, Potter” he said firmly, and had that look of defiance that made Harry’s teeth grind.

“Why your house?” Harry asked angrily.

“Because” Malfoy said, like he speaking to a child, “I don’t know what kind of a hovel your house is-“

“My house is not a hovel!” Harry exclaimed. Admittedly, it was pretty messy, but it wasn’t a _hovel_. Homes were meant to be a bit messy in Harry’s opinion.

“My home is tidy and clean, and very near The Pixie In The Basket” Malfoy insisted.

Harry hated to admit it, but Malfoy’s house _was_ closer. It wasn’t like Harry’s home was miles away though, the distance would hardly make a difference anyway, they could apparate for Merlin’s sake.

“You’re just being a snob, Malfoy” Harry snapped.

“Exactly. So it’s settled then” Malfoy looked very pleased with himself, and before Harry could argue, he was heading towards the door. Harry had no choice but to follow unless he wanted to have to suffer the bond again.

 

Harry walked in stony silence the entire way, purposely hanging back so that Malfoy had to wait by the door before he could enter. The silence was only broken when the door was firmly shut behind them.

“I’m making pasta for dinner” Malfoy announced, and then Harry was trailing after him into the kitchen. Harry tried not to be too amused by the fact that Malfoy was apparently going to cook for them both.

“You don’t have a house elf?” Harry asked, when Malfoy started putting ingredients on the counter.

“No” Malfoy replied.

“Surprised you actually know how to cook” Harry responded. He genuinely was, people like Malfoy had everything done for them.

“Unlike some of us, I grew up” Malfoy replied firmly. Harry snorted, Malfoy had not grown up, he was still snooty and entitled. Malfoy sneered in Harry’s direction, and then started cutting tomatoes. The rhythmic noise of the knife on marble was the only thing breaking the silence, and it was putting Harry on edge. This was not normal; he was not meant to be sitting in Draco Malfoy’s kitchen waiting for dinner.

 

He started drumming his fingers on the table impatiently, and it only took a moment for Malfoy to get irritated.

“Can you stop?” he asked. Harry glanced up, and was greeted with the sight of Malfoy, sleeves rolled up and dark mark on show. It looked pale and faded, but still surprisingly vivid against the milky skin it resided on. Malfoy quickly turned his arm away when he caught Harry staring.

“It’s rude to stare, Potter” He snapped, with such venom that it actually shocked Harry a little.

“I wasn’t-“ Harry started, guiltily, but then he was fixed with another glare and decided it was probably best to just stop talking.

 

Dinner was eaten in awkward silence. Malfoy still seemed to be wound up after the dark mark incident, and when he wasn’t ignoring Harry, he was frowning at him. Harry had to grudgingly admit that the food was delicious, the pasta cooked perfectly and the sauce both tangy and sweet. He would never admit that out loud though. Harry almost broke the silence purely because of how uncomfortable it was, but he refused to be the first to start a conversation. When they had finished, Malfoy picked up their dishes silently and cast a scourgify before sending them flying into their rightful places.

The silence managed to maintain itself for another hour as they sat in living room, Malfoy flicking through the red book that contained information on bonding rings.

“Do you mind helping, Potter, instead of sitting there uselessly?” Malfoy asked, glancing up.

“Well I wouldn’t know where to look” Harry answered.

“Start on this, I’ll find another” Malfoy replied, handing over the large red book before going and collecting another heavily bound book from the bookshelf.

 

When Harry looked at the page in front of him -the same one that had informed him of their predicament- he didn’t feel very hopeful.

_Bonding Rings_

_Bonding Rings are used in Wizarding marriage ceremonies to cement the relationship on a magical level. Upon two eligible magical people coming into contact with a bonding ring, a vow and tie is made between the couple. This bond creates fine magical ties between the hearts of the two bonded people, and if the bond senses that the relationship is in trouble, the proximity measure will occur. This means that the ties will cease to stretch and therefore maintain close proximity between the couple. This proximity measure is to encourage the resolving of the issue(s) in the relationship and will cease when the bond feels the problem has been rectified. For this reason, it is essential that bonding rings are only used in relationship that are long-established, stable and healthy. In the past there has been instance of death due to the misuse of bonding rings._

“Malfoy, this doesn’t mention how to break bonds, it just explains what a bond is” Harry said.

“Well the first part of breaking a bond is to understand it” Malfoy replied.

“Have you never had to deal with this? You’re meant to be a curse-breaker” Harry said, frustrated.

“As I explained to you when this hideous accident happened, a bond does not count as a curse, so therefore no, I do not have first-hand experience in breaking one” Malfoy replied abruptly.

Harry sighed melodramatically before going back to reading the useless text in front of him.

 

It was only when it passed midnight and Harry yawned that he realised he and Malfoy would have to share a room to sleep in.

“Where am I going to sleep?” Harry asked nervously.

“On the floor” Malfoy replied.

Harry wanted to argue, to say that he shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor, and then he realised that not only was this not his house so he couldn’t really argue, but also that if he didn’t sleep on the floor it would probably mean he’d have to share a bed with Malfoy. Immediately Harry decided the floor sounded like a better option. A moment later, Malfoy slammed the oversized book shut and placed it on the coffee table where the dreaded ring now resided.

“My room is this way” he said and then Harry was trailing out of the room after him, cursing that this was what his life had become.

 

Malfoy’s bedroom was much like the rest of the house, very minimalist, but very ornate. The carpet was plush and deep emerald (Harry had to refrain from rolling his eyes at the Slytherin-ness of it). The middle of the room was dominated by a huge four poster bed covered in pillows and throws, and fresh flowers sat upon the bedside table. He also had another shelf similar to the one in his living room which look to be covered in suspicious artefacts, and one entire wall appeared to be a walk-in wardrobe. It was all exactly how he had imaged Malfoy’s room would be like. Not that he had imagined Malfoy’s room at all, he thought quickly.

 

Malfoy walked over to the assumed walk-in wardrobe and pulled out a few extra throws and pillows, and then proceeded to chuck them unceremoniously on the floor as far away from the bed as possible.

“You can sleep there” He said, and then disappeared into the wardrobe.

Harry stared disbelievingly at the pile of fabric on the floor. It hardly looked like it would make a good bed, but it wasn’t as if he had much choice. He tried to manoeuvre the throws and pillows in a shape that looked vaguely comfortable, and then pulled his t-shirt over his head.

 

He was in the middle of shucking his jeans off when Malfoy appeared in the wardrobe entrance. He made a very undignified noise -that Harry made sure to remember to wind him up with later- before dramatically throwing his hands over his eyes.

“Why are you getting naked!?” Malfoy demanded, voice strained.

“I’m wearing boxers, Malfoy, and if it escaped your notice, I haven’t been home for clothes” Harry replied dryly.

Malfoy staggered over to his bed, eyes still firmly covered, and Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as if he was completely undressed, Malfoy was acting as if he was parading around dick out and all.

“Cover yourself in future!” Malfoy exclaimed, as the curtains snapped shut around his bed.

“Not all of us have silk pajamas! Harry called back.

 

Very flattering silk pajamas, Harry thought as he arranged himself on the floor. The black silk had looked so stark against Malfoy’s snowy pale skin, and had clung to every edge on his angular body and hung gracefully over every curve.

 

 

* * *

 

When the morning came around, Harry blinked awake to bright sunshine and an unfamiliar room. He panicked for a moment before the previous day came back to him in a rush. He felt panicked completely anew.

“Oh calm down” Malfoy said wearily.

Harry shoved his glasses onto his face and looked up blearily to where Malfoy was sat on the edge of his bed reading. He had those reading glasses on again, and he was also fully dressed.

“How long have you been up?” Harry asked.

“About half an hour” Malfoy replied absentmindedly.

“You didn’t wake me up” Harry said dumbly. He had let Harry sleep, which seemed strange. He would have thought that Malfoy would have forced him up immediately so that he could leave the bedroom to get coffee or food, or do things. Instead, it seemed that he had sat reading patiently while Harry had slept.

“Yes, well, I didn’t want to have to go near you” Malfoy spluttered defensively. Harry didn’t quite believe him.

 

Malfoy went back to his book immediately and seemed to be trying very hard to not look in Harry’s direction as he climbed off the floor and stretched. He cast a quick scourgify (they appeared to still be avoiding what would happen when they needed to shower) and got dressed in the clothes he’d worn the day before, much to the look of disgust on Malfoy’s face.

“Oh shove off, I don’t have any clothes here” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Malfoy just frowned deeper.

“Well hurry up so we can eat before work” Malfoy said finally, and left the room without checking to see if Harry was following.

 

 

* * *

 

As soon as they had got to work, Luna had asked how they were, and how their first night as a married couple had been. Nothing they said seemed to be able to get the idea that they were a proper married couple out of Luna’s head.

 

Despite being bonded, Harry found he could generally get on with his work the same as usual as long as he stayed on the other side of the shop from Malfoy. Malfoy was just as distracting today as he had been the previous day, and watching him work caught Harry’s attention far more than it should. It was even worse when Luna caught him looking.

“He is rather wonderful when he’s working, isn’t he?” Luna said softly from beside him. Harry jumped and almost dropped the glass inkwell he was meant to be polishing.

“I wasn’t-“ Harry started, but Luna was shushing him.

“You were, and that’s okay” She said sweetly.

“Although you’d have a better view if you didn’t hide behind the shelves” she said, frowning. Harry flushed.

“I wasn’t hiding” he said defensively.

“Of course” Luna smiled.

As soon as she went back to the counter Harry determinedly polished the inkwell until he could see himself in it, and definitely didn’t look at Malfoy _at all_ for the rest of the afternoon.

 

* * *

 

“See, Potter, I was right. Your house is a hovel” Malfoy announced, the second they entered 12 Grimmauld Place. A soon as work had finished, Harry had insisted on getting some of his things, and side-alonging Malfoy into his home had to been strange to say the least. Harry clenched his jaw and focused very hard on not allowing Malfoy to make him angry.

“It’s not, it’s homely” Harry replied firmly.

Malfoy snorted.

“Just shut up and let me collect my things” Harry said.

Apparently Malfoy was incapable of shutting up though, and insisted on critiquing everything they passed.

“That wardrobe is hideous”

“Are those house elf heads, Potter? What on earth is wrong with you?”

“That portrait is almost as ugly as you, Potter!”

“I can hardly stand the sheer level of horrible taste in here”

 

Harry was about two seconds away from exploding when he felt Malfoy stop in his tracks and whatever insults he was about to say die on his lips.

“Oh” Malfoy said softly.

Harry turned around and saw what Malfoy was staring at. The family tree on the wall had been mangled over the years by Sirius’ mother and the scorch marks stood stark and ugly against the colours of the tapestry. Harry had tried to remove it, but there seemed to be some strong magic holding it in place and in the end, he’d just tried to forget about it.

“Is this…?” Malfoy crouched down in front of the tapestry and let his fingers graze over the part emblazoned ‘Narcissa Malfoy’

“It’s the Black family tree” Harry confirmed.

Malfoy trailed his fingers down to his own name, and then stilled abruptly. Harry suddenly realised why. _He_ was on there, a dainty gold thread linking his name to the one inscribed ‘Draco Malfoy’

 

Harry rushed over and without thinking, crouched beside Draco, staring at his own name on the tapestry. Sirius had tried to fix it and add him to it back when he was alive, and the tapestry hadn’t allowed it. Sirius had insisted that Harry being his Godson made him just as much a Black as any blood relation, that he _belonged_ on there. That he was _family_. Seeing his name on there now brought a lump to Harry’s throat, but also made him frustrated. This is not how Sirius would have wanted him to become part of the family tapestry, Sirius had hated the tapestry as it currently was and being a part of it in its current state felt wrong, not to mention that he was only a part of it because he was now bonded to Malfoy of all people.

 

When Harry looked away from the tapestry, he realised his eyes were wet and scrubbed at them furiously. Malfoy was watching him, and that just made Harry angrier.

“Leave me alone” Harry said, voice thick. This was one of the many moments when he wished he could have a room to himself, be able to be alone.

“I can’t, the bond” Malfoy replied quietly, as though Harry didn’t already know.

Harry did the next best thing he could, and took himself over to the other side of the room and into the old moth-eaten armchair in the corner, and just let himself breath.  Malfoy remained mercifully silent across the other side of the room, and by the time Harry had registered the fact that normally Malfoy would have made fun of him forever for getting emotional about anything, he had also noticed that Malfoy’s presence felt strangely comforting.

 

It took a little while before Harry felt he could pretend he had never seen the tapestry, and surprisingly Malfoy had remained quiet the entire time. When Harry dared to look his direction, he found Malfoy leant against the wall occupying himself with some fancy charm work. There was currently the equivalent of a small zoo floating silent and ghost-like around the room.

“How are you doing that?” Harry asked. He winced at how thick his voice still sounded.

The misty looking animals disappeared abruptly and Malfoy glanced up at him.

“A lot of concentration” he said quietly.

Harry had already known that Malfoy was a talented wizard -skilled and clever, and irritatingly arrogant about it- but seeing magical displays like that was something else.

“I’m ready to get my things now” Harry said, changing the subject. Franky, he was embarrassed he had gotten so upset, especially in front of Malfoy. The fact that Malfoy had been so uncharacteristically _nice_ about it almost made things worse.

 

Losing Sirius had always been one of the things Harry had struggled to deal with most. It had been his opportunity at a family, at getting to know the last remaining relative he had, even if it was just through being Sirius’ Godson. Seeing that tapestry, with his name finally on it, had hurt so much because he wasn’t meant to end up on there that way.

 

When they finally left the room to continue towards Harry’s bedroom, Harry had looked over at his shoulder at the tapestry and vowed to either fix it or get rid of it. He tried to pretend that he hadn’t noticed Malfoy following the line of his eyes or the look of apparent concern in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Harry felt much better that evening knowing that he had fresh clothes to put on, but he also _really_ wanted a shower. Scourgify could only do so much, and at least behind a shower curtain he could _pretend_ he was alone.

“I want a shower” Harry announced, the second that dinner was finished. It had been another delicious, but silent, affair.

Malfoy looked up from the book he was scanning, this one entitled ‘ _How To Break It: Charms, Curses, and Enchantments!_ ’

“Excuse me?” he said. He glasses had slid towards the end of his nose, and Harry had the strangest urge to push them back up for him.

“I want a shower” Harry repeated.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and tried to look highly inconvenienced, but Harry noticed a light blush develop across the tops of his cheeks.

“Very well” Malfoy said, finally.

 

Trying to shower with Malfoy in the room was both incredibly terrifying and strangely _exciting_. _It’s no different from the quidditch showers_ , Harry tried to tell himself, but it _was_. He and Malfoy were alone in Malfoy’s small, but ornate bathroom. A bathroom that Harry couldn’t help noticing smelt like Malfoy’s soap and cologne. The first problem had started when Malfoy had situated himself on the closed lid of the toilet and opened his book again. Harry had of course started undressing for his shower. He wasn’t particularly shy, and Malfoy wasn’t even looking his direction.

“Potter, you can’t get naked!” Malfoy exclaimed suddenly, when Harry had gone to shuck off his boxers. He glanced up to where Malfoy was dramatically covering his eyes. His cheeks were definitely pink, and Harry could see the muscles in his arms were tense.

“I need to get naked to shower, Malfoy” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

“Not in front of me! Get in the shower first. Merlin, Potter”

Harry sighed, but decided not to bother arguing. It was almost a shame, he liked the look of Malfoy when he was flustered.

 

The second problem had arisen when Harry had been soaping himself up, using the smokey sandlewood soap Hermione always got for him. Harry couldn’t get it out of his mind that Malfoy was less than a couple of metres from him, just on the other side of a paper-thin curtain. He was meant to be disgusted by the idea of Malfoy being in the bathroom while he showered, and yet he couldn’t help the unmistakable stirring in his groin. There was no way he was about to wank with Malfoy so close though, and he was a little horrified at his bodies treacherous ways.

 

The third problem was the way Malfoy looked at him when he emerged from the shower. He’d pulled the curtain back, steam clouding the room in sandlewood and gentle dampness, and looked over to where Malfoy had been reading. Instead he came eye to eye with Malfoy, who was already looking his way, book forgotten on his lap. His mouth was slightly parted, cheeks flushed -either from the heat of the room, or something else-, eyes following the trail of a droplet of water Harry could feel making its way down his chest. That look, the intensity and uncertainty behind those grey eyes just made Harry’s previous problem apparent again. No sooner had Harry cleared his throat, Malfoy’s expression was hardening again and he was glancing down at the book like he was trying to remind himself where he was, before fixing Harry with a sneer.

“Took you long enough” he said, but his voice was shaky and Harry didn’t know what to think.

 

Harry had then been ordered to stand facing the corner of the room for the entire time Malfoy showered, and it was torturous at best to smell Malfoy’s soap, to hear him washing _right there_ , and be left alone with his own traitorous imagination.

 

When Malfoy emerged from the shower, towel held firmly around him like a shield, he looked shockingly _beautiful_. Harry actually felt the catch of breath in his own throat at the sight of him, long pale limbs and hair water-darkened to a rich gold. His eyes looked darker than normal, storm grey and appraising and Harry watched, captivated, as a droplet fell from pale eyelashes.

 

Harry stepped closer without even realising he’d done it. The air was hot and heady, steam blurring the angular lines of Malfoy’s body and face. His eyes were just a sharp as ever though, looking down at him, bright and uncertain.

“Malfoy” Harry whispered.

He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what it was he was trying to say. This close though, he could feel the bond singing in his veins, he could almost feel his magic reaching out for Malfoy like it wanted him, _needed_ him.

“Malfoy” Harry repeated, voice soft, unsure.

Malfoy’s eyes were wide and wary, but he hadn’t moved away. Harry reached out a cautious hand, hardly daring to close the gap that remained between them. The closer his fingers got to grazing the damp skin of Malfoy’s face, the more he needed to do it. The tension and magic, wild and dangerous and exhilarating, was almost tangible in the air around them.

 

“Potter” Malfoy said finally. It came out more like a question, his voice strained and tight.

“What are you-“ he whispered, grey eyes searching and intense. But in that moment, Harry finally allowed the tips of his fingers to trail the path of a droplet of water where it snaked down from Malfoy’s cheekbone to his jaw. They both gasped at the contact, and it should have been comical, but Harry couldn’t focus on anything more than how _right_ it felt to be touching Malfoy’s skin, how _perfect_ Malfoy felt beneath his fingertips.

 

Harry ran his thumb along Malfoy’s sharp cheekbone, across towards his ear, and then followed the line down to his angular jaw. Malfoy’s skin was warm and unbelievably soft, and Harry trailed his fingers back up, tentatively running the pad of his thumb across the delicate pink skin of Malfoy’s bottom lip. Malfoy’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact and his lips parted, Harry could feel how fast his own heart was racing, how completely overwhelmed he was. Malfoy’s lips were dry and velvet smooth, and when his tongue poked out to wet them, tracing the tip of Harry’s thumb as it went, Harry actually whimpered.

 

It was at that precise moment that an owl made its presence known at one of the upstairs windows. The sharp rapping was enough to shatter whatever moment they’d been having, and Malfoy’s eyes flew open. He looked startled and slightly horrified, and Harry felt his stomach drop. His hand fell from Malfoy’s face immediately, and hung awkwardly at his side, like he didn’t know what to do with it if it wasn’t touching Malfoy.

 

Malfoy tightened the towel around himself defensively and then he cleared his throat. He appeared to be trying very hard to hold eye contact, as though he’d rather be looking anywhere but at Harry.

“We better see who that is” Malfoy said finally. His voice still uncertain, a little shaky even.

“Um, yeah” Harry replied lamely.

 

They got dressed in opposite corners of the bathroom, as far away from one another as possible, in uncomfortable silence, and Harry tried not to think about what had just happened. He couldn’t be feeling this way about Malfoy, feeling _any_ way about Malfoy. It must just be the bond, nothing more to it.

 

* * *

 

The owl had delivered Harry’s invitation to Hermione’s fundraising evening promoting equality of non-human magical creatures. An evening that Harry had completely forgotten about in amongst all the trouble with the bond. In fairness, the evening wasn’t for another two weeks, so Harry hoped that maybe they’d be able to break the bond by then, and then everything would go back to normal.

  
Malfoy had been less than impressed when Harry told him.

“So you’re giving me a deadline?” He demanded, folding his arms.

“Well unless you want to come with me?” Harry asked. Malfoy blanched at the suggestion and Harry raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what I thought” Harry said.  

“Hermione might actually be able to help!” Harry exclaimed suddenly. If anyone could help them break the bond, it would be Hermione. He was pretty sure no information was safe from her. Malfoy looked highly put-out by the suggestion, but manged to keep his complaints to a minimum.

 

As soon as Harry had explained to Hermione what had happened over a frantic firecall, Hermione had jumped into action. She’d asked Harry questions about everything, made hurried notes and even started listing book titles that could help. Malfoy had sat, silently rolling his eyes and looking bored on the sofa the entire time without offering any input.

“Hermione can’t come for a week” Harry said, as the flames died down.

“I can hear, Potter” Malfoy replied dryly. Harry resisted the urge to frown.

“She’s going to look into it until she can come see it for herself though” Harry said hopefully. If Hermione could come in a weeks’ time, it still only gave them another week to break the bond before her fundraiser. Harry had started using that as a deadline to aim for.

 

* * *

 

In the week until Hermione could come to visit, things remained tense. They seemed to have developed a routine of sorts, and it was already growing strangely _comfortable_. They woke up, Harry trying to fight off the cramps the floor had started giving him, and then took turns showering. Showering still remained a little awkward after what had happened, but it hadn’t happened since, even if Harry could practically taste the tension between them. They then went to work at the Pixie In The Basket, Malfoy curse-breaking by the fire and Harry desperately trying not to pay any attention.

“You know he watches you too” Luna had said one day, and Harry hadn’t been able to ignore the little skip in his heart, or the grey eyes bright in the sunlight through the windows, when he’d caught Malfoy looking later that day. They’d then go home, Malfoy would make dinner and insist he’d teach Harry to cook so Harry could pull some of the weight, and then spend the evening pouring over curse-breaking books.

 

Day to day, Harry could try to pretend nothing was changing, that he felt no different than he had when the bond had first happened, but little things made him doubt that. Little things like turning round and finding that Malfoy had already made his tea for him, knowing exactly how much sugar and milk he liked. Little things like how he turned the dials on the shower when he was finished to how he knew Malfoy liked it. The fact that they seemed to have favourite seats on the sofa that they left available for one another.

 

The fact that Harry had noticed little quirks Malfoy had that he’d never seen before, like how he played with the ends of his hair when he was reading even though it was short, the way he pushed his reading glasses up with his ring finger rather than his index finger, the way his tongue poked between his lips the tiniest bit when he was concentrating, the way he mixed tea and coffee like it was a potion, carefully and precisely. Harry also couldn’t help noticing that he found these things _endearing_.

 

Things were changing and he didn’t know how to stop it, how they could ever go back to how it was before the bond. He also didn’t know if he really _wanted_ things to go back to how they were before. He never thought he’d say it, but he actually felt something akin to contentment with Malfoy, and as much as he could try to ignore all the other changes, he couldn’t ignore that.

 

When Malfoy did actually get around to teaching Harry how to cook, Harry decided to keep quiet about the fact that as a child of younger than ten he’d quite regularly had to cook and was therefore quite competent at it. He wasn’t sure why he decided not to say anything, maybe because Malfoy trying to teach him and remain patient was almost charming.

 

They were making a traditional Sunday roast, and Harry was trying very hard to pretend that he hadn’t ever done that before. Malfoy was actually a surprisingly good teacher, demonstrating how to cut things properly and how the food should be prepared to be put in the oven.

“How come you cook the muggle way?” Harry asked.

It seemed strange for Malfoy of all people to not have a house elf, let alone not use any magic at all to cook.

“I had to learn to” Malfoy replied.

 

Suddenly Harry was remembering what he had heard at the Malfoy’s trial, after Lucius had been sentenced to life in Azkaban, Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy had been pardoned with only fines, partly due to Harry’s testimony that both of them had saved his life separately. Before the trial though, they had been held under house arrest for months, their wands confiscated. Not that Malfoy had even had his own wand though, that had still been in Harry’s possession. It still _was_ in Harry’s possession, Harry thought guiltily. Harry couldn’t imagine living for months without any magic at all, he only knew a few spells wandlessly and wandless magic was _hard_.

 

“Oh yeah” Harry said finally, and Malfoy looked at him cynically.

“But how come you never started using magic to cook again?” Harry asked curiously.

“I actually find it rather therapeutic” Malfoy replied, stirring the homemade gravy mixture carefully.

Harry didn’t know what it was, but every new thing he learnt about Malfoy seemed to pool into this _thing_ that was happening, into these feelings that he couldn’t control.

 

Harry leant over to peer into the pot, and took a small fingertip to taste from the edge.

“I think if we add a little pepper and maybe a bit of garlic it’ll be perfect” he smiled.

Malfoy was staring at him appraisingly, wooden spoon forgotten in his hand. He narrowed his eyes.

“You _do_ know how to cook!” he said accusingly.

“Maybe a little?” Harry replied sheepishly.

Malfoy did nothing for a second, and then he was flicking gravy onto Harry’s t-shirt before going back to stirring the mixture and trying (failing) to not look pleased with himself.

 

Harry stared down at his t-shirt disbelievingly. Who knew Malfoy could be so childish? But then Harry remembered the ‘Potter Stinks’ badges and realised Malfoy had _always_ been this childish.

So, instead of saying anything, Harry carefully scooped as much of the gravy off his t-shirt as he could, and then wiped it slowly down the entire arm of Malfoy’s shirt.

 

Malfoy turned around slowly, mouth in a tight line.

“Don’t be so petty, Potter” he said, as he proceeded to try to wipe more gravy onto Harry’s top.

“You started it!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing Malfoy’s wrist to try to stop him brandishing the spoon in his direction. The feeling of perfection from being in direct contact with Malfoy was instantaneous, but they both appeared to be ignoring it.

“I did no such thing” Malfoy replied.

“You’re a liar” Harry goaded, and Malfoy was actively trying to yank his hand free, the gravy forgotten on the hob. Harry tried to force Malfoy’s hand down to the countertop, safely away from his clothing, but somehow found himself much closer to Malfoy than he had expected. Malfoy was pressed against the counter edge, and the gap between them was small, Harry felt his heart stutter.

 

His moment of hesitation gave Malfoy the upper hand though, and suddenly Harry felt himself being pushed against the counter, the edge digging into his hips and back, Malfoy right in front of him. They were both breathing heavily, either from their childish fighting or the proximity, and again Harry could feel the closeness. Malfoy was staring down at him, eyes wide, gravy spoon hanging lose in his hand, neither of them moving. Harry was almost scared to move, like if did anything the moment would be broken.

 

Harry stared down at where Malfoy’s hand was pinning his wrist to the countertop. It was like when the bond first happened all over again, but this time Harry didn’t want him to let go. Harry could feel the heat from Malfoy’s skin alongside the feeling of _rightness_ that was pulsing through his blood unrelentingly. This time instead of snatching his hand back, Malfoy fingers moved. Harry’s heart was racing as tentative fingertips traced up past his wrist bone and onto his forearm. He felt his own eyes flutter shut, how could something so simple feel so good? Every slow, shy movement of Malfoy’s fingers against his skin set his blood on fire, had the bond singing through his veins.

 

“Please” Harry murmured, and he didn’t even know what he was asking for. Closer proximity, more of Malfoy?

Malfoy’s fingers stuttered against his skin, and Harry heard the tiny catch in his breath. When Harry opened his eyes again, Malfoy was watching him, intense and questioning. His pupils were dilated and he was close enough that Harry could see the flecks of silver in his otherwise grey eyes. He seemed to have moved even closer, and the short, warm breaths he exuded brushed over Harry’s lips like a kiss.

 

Their bodies weren’t quite touching yet, but it was so close, close enough that Harry could imagine how the hard lines of Malfoy’s body would feel against him. Harry reached out without thinking, fingers brushing the soft fabric of Malfoy’s shirt. Harry could feel the warmth of Malfoy’s skin through the silky material, and he could feel Malfoy’s fingers tightening around his wrist still against the counter, as though he didn’t want to let go either.

 

Harry traced his fingers higher, following the line of Malfoy’s collarbone, slightly prominent on his slender frame, and Malfoy tilted his head almost subconsciously, giving Harry more access. Harry could feel his breath coming fast, his heart threatening to pound its way out of his ribs, but he could feel that on Malfoy too, could feel that he was just as effected.

 

When Harry’s fingers surpassed the shirt, and brushed against the side of Malfoy’s neck, he saw Malfoy’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, tension and apprehension drawing them tight. Malfoy sighed softly as Harry’s hand cupped his jaw, and then his eyes were opening and he was looking down at Harry with uncertainty.

“What are we doing?” he whispered, voice strained. Even as he spoke, his fingers were tracing the skin of Harry’s arm, almost like he couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t know” Harry whispered honestly.

 

Not long ago Harry would have thought this was ridiculous, awful even, but now he couldn’t see any way things could be different. The magic crackling in the air around them, the flushed, gorgeous look on Malfoy’s face, the feeling of the contact between them. It felt inevitable.

 

Harry wanted to lean those extra few inches, close the remained gap between them. He could imagine how Malfoy would taste against his mouth, of the black coffee he drank all the time, but he would taste sweet too, taste like him. Those blush-pink lips would be so soft and delicate, but Malfoy probably kissed like he meant it, hard and with passion, and Harry wanted it so badly.

 

He swallowed as he leant forward, and Malfoy held his eye contact, but didn’t move. When Harry’s lips brushed against the sharp curve of Malfoy’s jaw, he heard the soft sound Malfoy made, felt his shoulders slump as he relaxed a little. Harry dared to open his mouth, tracing wet lips up towards Malfoy’s ear, and he could feel the hand gripping his wrist hold tighter, he could feel Malfoy’s body press closer. Harry felt like if he opened his eyes, he’d see sparks from where his lips made contact with Malfoy’s skin. It was electric, undeniably magnetic, and every drag of his lips made him want more.

 

When his lips finally found the soft plump skin of Malfoy’s bottom lip, it was like the climax of a story, a huge swell of pleasure washing over him so fast he felt he’d drown in it. Malfoy’s mouth opened against his immediately, a low sigh escaping between them, Malfoy’s lips so gentle, so pliable against his. Malfoy’s lips fit so beautifully against his that it was like they were moulded purely to find each other. Harry’s head was spinning with it, his whole body thrumming with Malfoy, saturated with pleasure and total perfection. When he felt fingers find the nape of his neck, twining into the strands of hair he could never get to sit flat, he actually moaned.

 

Every movement of their lips felt like a thousand, this one kiss felt like more than he’d ever experienced with anyone else. It was like every intimate experience he’d ever had were nothing, were obsolete, compared to the feel of Malfoy against him.

 

Malfoy pressed forward closer as he pulled Harry in, Harry’s hips being pulled away from the counter as he stumbled forward a step. Harry moaned again when he felt the hard line of Malfoy’s cock against his hip, his own twitching at the feeling, at the thought of where this could go. When Harry pushed his pelvis forward helplessly, Malfoy let out a tiny moan, pulling Harry closer to maintain the contact.

“Wait, wait” Malfoy stuttered, but his hips were moving with Harry’s.

“What?” Harry murmured, his lips trailing their way back down to the soft skin of Malfoy’s neck.

“I think we should- _oh_ ” Harry bit down gently, “I think we need to stop” Malfoy moaned.

Harry couldn’t even think straight, the taste and feel of Malfoy against him overwhelming him in the best way possible.

“Why?” He whispered, he’d found a good rhythm, grinding against Malfoy and creating that delicious friction that had Malfoy whimpering into his ear.

“It’s just the bond” Malfoy ground out.

Harry stopped as soon as Malfoy’s words registered. Did Malfoy not enjoy this? Did he feel like the bond was forcing him? Harry didn’t want Malfoy to feel like he had no control, like the bond was forcing him to be intimate with Harry, forcing his body to react.

 

Harry didn’t feel like his was compelled to do this by anything other than his desire for Malfoy, anything other than how when they were close the sexual tension was palpable in the air, the way he thought Malfoy looked at him. Maybe he had been imagining that.

 

Harry took a deep breath and looked at the ground as he reluctantly moved away from Malfoy. The loss of contact left him feeling a little empty, almost incomplete. He felt embarrassed that he’d even thought Malfoy would enjoy anything like that with him, and tried to remind himself that they didn’t like each other, tried to convince himself that was true.

 

They didn’t talk about it for the entire evening, didn’t talk much at all. They’d had to eat dinner without gravy because it had burnt while they’d been otherwise distracted, and now sitting in the living room trying to pay attention to the book Malfoy had handed him, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about how Malfoy had felt against him. He internally berated himself, and tried not to allow himself to even consider half the things he was imagining. In less than a week the bond was likely to be broken, if Hermione had anything to do with it, he just had to survive the last few days.

 

* * *

 

Those last few days proved to be harder than he thought. Harry’s back was in a near constant state of achiness now, the floor did not make a good bed, but he wasn’t about to bring that up for fear of what Malfoy might suggest. They also seemed to be trying to avoid each other without making it obvious, and Harry actually found him longing for closeness, longing for them to chat normally again. Now whenever they undoubtedly had an argument, it felt real, with venom like it had in school, rather than the small quarrels they’d been having before.

 

When Luna came to visit the night before Hermione was due, she could tell something was wrong straight away. She’d only been sitting with them in the living room for a few minutes before she frowned.

“Have you two been fighting?” She asked, looking between them. They were sitting on opposite sides of the room, like they had been since the kitchen incident.

“No” Malfoy said, just as Harry said “Yes”

Luna raised her eyebrows.

“You need to talk about your problems” she said knowingly.

“Which? He has far too many. We’d be here all night” Malfoy said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh you’re one to talk” Harry snipes back.

“You can’t even put your underwear in the laundry, Merlin knows how you’d sort any of your other problems out”

“Stop going on about the underwear, it was one time!” Harry exclaimed.

“One time too many” Malfoy said definitively.

 

Harry was about to go on a rant about the ways that Malfoy was annoying, when he heard Luna _giggle_.

“You are a married couple!” She exclaimed gleefully.

“We are not!” they replied simultaneously, and then glared at one another across the room. How was Malfoy still gorgeous when he was being infuriating? It wasn’t fair.

“You are, look at you. You even argue like a married couple!” Luna said.

“We’ve always argued like this, Luna” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. He then seemed to realise the implication of what he’d just implied -that they’d always been like a married couple- and flushed.

Luna looked impossibly even more happy.

 

They managed to avoid talking about how they _were not_ a married couple for the rest of the evening and instead distracted themselves by enjoying time with Luna. By the time it hit 10 O’Clock Harry was curled up sleepily on the sofa, half reading a quidditch magazine and half watching Luna and Malfoy play exploding snap. They were sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire, the glow glinting off their hair, the cards laid out between them bright and bathed in golden light.

“You cheated” Luna giggled.

“How dare you suggest such a thing” Malfoy replied, feigning shock.

“Draco, you promised last time that you’d play fairly” Luna said seriously, but she was smiling at him affectionately, like this was a conversation that happened fairly regularly and that neither of them took seriously.

“I would never have promised that” Malfoy said matter-of-factly.

The way they interacted always surprised Harry, he would never have expected Malfoy and Luna to become friends, or for Malfoy to be so patient and kind to her, and her so forgiving and understanding to him. Harry felt warmth fill him watching them, watching Malfoy being so carefree and friendly and _funny_. It was little things like this that relit the feelings he was trying to bury.

 

When Luna left that evening, she hugged Malfoy first, whispering something in his ear. He complimented her avocado necklace, and ruffled her hair affectionately. She then hugged Harry tight, pressing her lips close to his ear.

“He really likes you” she whispered, before stepping back and setting them both with a beaming smile. She shut the door behind herself, leaving Harry with more questions than he had before.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, they’d barely had breakfast before Hermione was floocalling to request entry. She came into the living room carrying more books than should be humanly possible and looking scarily determined.

“I’ve been doing research” she said, plopping herself down on the sofa.

“Oh, make yourself at home then” Malfoy muttered under his breath. Harry scowled at him.

“I think we can break the bond, but I’ll need time” she said, flicking through the book.

Harry feel his gut twist at her words. Part of him _liked_ how things were, but then he was remembering that Malfoy didn’t feel like he did, and the sooner he could leave Malfoy alone, the better.

“How?” he said determinedly. Malfoy glanced up, giving him a strange look.

“We need to perform this” she said, pointing to a passage in the book.

 

Harry and Malfoy leant over to look, and Harry tried to ignore how close their faces were. The passage looked very long, very complicated, and not easy to execute. Malfoy whistled.

“That won’t be easy” he said.

“I know, but I can do it” Hermione said with certainty, “I just need to practice. That’s why I need time”

Harry nodded slowly.

“Can you do it before the fundraiser?” he asked. Malfoy was watching him again searchingly; and it made him feel exposed.

“I think so, yes” Hermione said.

She glanced between them uneasily.

“There’s one more thing…” she said slowly,

“You need to keep the bond happy, otherwise it’ll be even trickier to break”

 

After Harry had recovered from the initial reluctant excitement that he’d get to be close to Malfoy, and the guilt that Malfoy wouldn’t want that, and then the uneasiness that he and Malfoy being close was a _terrible idea_ , they came up with a plan.

 

It wasn’t a plan either of them appeared to particularly like, and Hermione didn’t seem to enjoy telling them how she thought they should go about making the bond happy.

“I think the easiest way is for you to act like a couple” she said grimly.

Before Harry could say anything, Malfoy was speaking up.

“Okay, where should we start?” he asked calmly.

Hermione gave him a strange look for second, gone almost as fast as it appeared. He must be so desperate to get out of the bond and away from Harry that he was willing to do anything, Harry felt his stomach drop.

_This is for the best_ , he reminded himself. There isn’t any way that he and Malfoy would ever work in real life, and this bond had been an accident. More importantly, Malfoy clearly wanted out, and it didn’t matter how either of them acted if it was all just the bond making it happen.

 

“I would start by using one another’s first names” she suggested.

Malfoy - _Draco_ , Harry thought- turned to face him, looking highly determined.

“Okay… Harry” he said.

His name sounded more beautiful on Malfoy - _Draco’s_ \- lips than it ever had before. It sounded like it was made to be said by him, in every way possible. Yelled, whispered, _moaned_. Hearing his name dropping from those lips almost sounded like a promise, and Harry almost believed it.

“Draco” Harry said experimentally.

The word sounded both foreign, and like the he’d been preparing to say it his whole life. Like there was nothing he’d rather say. Draco’s eyes widened the tiniest bit, and his lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something and had forgotten entirely what it was.

Hermione was glancing between them curiously, and Harry flushed. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

“So other than that, I suggest you just act like you would if you were in a relationship” she said, still watching them like she knew something they didn’t.

 

* * *

 

It was particularly awkward once Hermione left, neither of them knowing where to start. They stared at each other blankly for a moment before Draco turned and started towards the kitchen.

“I’m making dinner” he called over his shoulder, and Harry trailed after him.

It was like the first night all over again, Draco cooking silently and Harry sitting at the table wondering whether he should break the silence.

 

“You look… nice” Harry said finally.

Draco’s hand paused over the pan in front of him.

“What?” he asked flatly.

“I said… you look nice” Harry repeated.

Draco turned to him slowly.  
“Is that your attempt at acting like we’re a couple, Potter? Because that was tragic”

Harry flushed.

“Well you aren’t exactly doing any better, at least I’m trying!” Harry exclaimed.

 

Draco narrowed his eyes and placed the wooden spoon on the counter carefully. Harry felt his heart rate increase as Draco walked slowly across the room towards him. He came to a stop behind Harry’s chair, and Harry tried not to flinch when he felt the gentle press of hands on his shoulders. He had to try to control his breathing when he felt Draco’s breath against his ear.

“Dinner is almost ready… Harry” he whispered, practically purring Harry’s name, and Harry felt himself shiver. Draco skated his fingers across Harry’s shoulders once, before pressing a chaste kiss to the side of his neck. Harry felt his head tilt, unconsciously giving Draco more room, but then the hands were leaving his shoulders, and by the time Harry opened his eyes Draco was stirring the pan again, looking distinctly smug.

 

After they had eaten, stilted conversation taking up the spaces between mouthfuls, they went to the living room as usual. Harry sat down on his favourite seat of the sofa, and was incredibly shocked when Draco came and sat right next to him.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, voice strained.

“Pretending to be your boyfriend” Draco replied, rolling his eyes. Having Draco so close was too nice, and it made it all the worse that Draco was just pretending, because Harry was starting to wish it was real.

 

When Draco opening his book and started to read, he seemed to subconsciously shift closer, until he was pressed against Harry’s side. Harry glanced up from his own book, he couldn’t resist gazing at Malfoy against him, so close, the way his skin lit up in the evening light from the windows, the setting sun shining bright gold on his hair. He had a beautiful profile, the pointiness of his features just meant that he had a strong jaw, sharp cheekbones and a poker straight nose. When Draco glanced up, he caught Harry looking and raised an eyebrow.

“Can I help you, Potter?” he asked.

“It’s Harry” Harry reminded him.

“Can I help you, Harry?” Draco rectified, he seemed to shift even closer.

“Just-“ Harry swallowed. “Just pretending to be your boyfriend” he finished.

Draco made a noise of approval before looking back down at his book, but Harry was sure he saw Draco looking out of the corner of his eye not a few moments later.

When they went up for the night, and Draco abruptly vanished all the bedding on the floor, Harry’s stomach dropped.

“I would never let my boyfriend sleep on the floor” Draco murmured, and brushed past Harry on his way to the wardrobe.

 

It wasn’t so bad once they actually got into bed, Harry made sure to keep strictly to his side of the bed so he and Draco weren’t touching, and Draco made no effort to close the gap between them.

“Goodnight, Harry” Draco whispered, and his voice was so close it almost made Harry jump.

Goodnight” Harry replied shakily. This was going to kill him, he was sure. Draco was too good an actor, this felt too real already. It took a long time for Harry to fall asleep, and when he did it was to the sound of Draco’s steady breathing beside him.

 

* * *

 

Harry awoke feeling more blissful than he had maybe _ever_. He also felt uncomfortably warm, and his eyes snapped open when he realised it was because an arm was slung carelessly over his waist, and a firm chest was pressed against his back. Harry held his breath when Draco shifted, his hips pressing against Harry’s bum, and Harry could feel his morning erection through those distracting silk pajamas he always wore. Draco sighed softly against the nape of Harry’s neck, and Harry felt his own skin heat up all over. What would have -in any other situation- been a perfect way to wake up, was just frustrating. After laying frozen for a few minutes, he decided to risk sneaking out of the bed.

 

He had made it half way across the room when Draco spoke.

“Morning babe” he smirked, looking sleepy and a pleased with himself. All of a sudden, Harry felt anger bubbling up inside him. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to bonded to Draco when he wasn’t interested, didn’t want Draco acting like this when it was all pretend to him, he couldn’t bear it.

“Fuck off” Harry spat, and then watched in satisfaction as Draco’s eyes widened, and stalked into the walk-in wardrobe, the only space he could have to himself.

 

They didn’t talk about it until Draco made Harry’s tea just how he likes it and placed it like an apology beside Harry’s hand.

“What was that about?” Draco asked cautiously.

“Nothing, I uh, just woke up in a bad mood” Harry insisted. The last thing he was going to do it make things more uncomfortable when they still had to live together and pretend to be a couple.

“Okay” Draco replied, but he didn’t sound convinced.

 

* * *

 

Harry tried to keep his mood under control at work that day, strictly not looking at Draco unless he had to, under the guise that he needed to get on with work. Luna of course, had been overjoyed when she’d heard that they needed to act like a couple, and when Mrs. Finch had come in for her usual weekly visit, she commented on how ‘dishy’ Harry’s ‘boyfriend’ was.

“Thank you” he’d stuttered, and Malfoy who had of course heard, had sidled over and slide an arm around Harry’s waist.

“He is rather lucky, isn’t he?” he asked, not taking his gaze off Harry’s face.

“Oh, young love is so wonderful!” she’d cooed.

“You should hold onto that one” she mock whispered at Harry, and Malfoy smiled dazzlingly. The whole problem was that Harry _did_ want to hold onto him.

 

When Draco finally moved away, his fingers seemed to linger on Harry’s waist longer than was strictly necessary, and it tingled in their wake.

 

* * *

 

With two days to go until the fundraiser, Harry became increasingly torn between disappointment that the bond was going to be broken, and relieved that he would finally have some space from Draco. It was painful having to pretend they were a couple when he knew it meant nothing to Draco, and a lot to him.

 

That day when they had left work, Draco had slid his hand into Harry’s in the doorway, much to Luna’s delight. Walking home holding hands had seemed perfect, they’d even stopped along the way so that Draco could tell him about some of the flowers that adorned the roadside. Some of the very flowers that Harry had noticed the first day of the bond, on his way to get the ring checked, not knowing how much his life was about to change.

 

“That’s ivy” Draco pointed to the delicate tendrils that climbed the walls of one of the buildings.

Harry wanted to point out that he did know what ivy was, but he was too caught up in the way Draco was explaining, the light in his eyes as he talked about something he was passionate about, his hand warm and soft in Harry’s.

“It means wedded love” Draco said softly.

Harry glanced up to find Draco’s eyes already on him. _This is pretend_ , he reminded himself. _It’s not real_.

“That’s interesting” Harry replied, finally. He saw something akin to confusion cloud Draco’s expression for a fraction of a second, like he’d expected more of a response than that, but before he could ponder it for too long, Draco was moving forwards again.

 

* * *

 

That evening Harry made dinner, and he jumped when he felt arms slide around his waist as he dished up the food.

“It’s nearly ready” Harry said shakily, trying not to lean back into the embrace. Draco felt warm and solid behind him, and he could feel his breath warm against the back of his neck.

“It looks delicious” Draco replied, and when Harry finally caught his eye, he wasn’t looking at the food. Harry felt himself flush, and looked resolutely back at the plates in from of him.

“We- we should go sit down” Harry said quickly. The arms around his waist left, and Harry tried not to be disappointed when he felt Draco’s warmth move away as he went to the table. He took a deep breath before taking the plates over to the dinner table.

 

Despite feeling frustrated at the situation, Harry really enjoyed dinner. They talked the entire time, about everything from their favourite quidditch teams to telling each other funny stories. Every time Draco laughed Harry felt himself pulled in deeper, felt the warmth bloom in his chest from how wonderful it felt to see Draco happy.

 

When they went to be bed that night, it felt more real than it ever had, right down to Draco kissing his cheek lightly and wishing him a good night’s sleep. Harry had begun to consider this to be the best, worst thing that had ever happened to him.

 

* * *

 

Harry awoke in the morning with Draco wrapped around him again, and tried not to get too attached to the feeling of it or the happiness it brought him, especially since he knew Hermione was probably going to be able to break the bond today.

 

“Good morning” Draco murmured, and Harry looked down to see Draco bleary eyed and with bed mussed hair, and the most beautiful thing ever.

“Hey” Harry replied softly, unable to resist pushed Draco’s hair off his forehead. He tried to tell himself he was only doing it because that’s what he would do if Draco really was his boyfriend, but every little touch had more to it, meant more than that.

Draco’s eyes fluttered closed momentarily at Harry’s touch, and Harry had to get out of bed, it was too domestic for something pretend.

 

“Why do you keep pulling away?” Draco asked suddenly. Harry paused where he was picking up his trousers. He heart beating faster in his chest, panic rising. What could he say to that?

“I’m not” he replied finally. He didn’t risk looking in Draco’s direction.

“You are”

“I’m not”

Draco sighed. Harry was practically holding his breath waiting for something to be said. It was ridiculous, he was standing in the middle of his fake boyfriend’s bedroom in just his boxers having a small crisis over an accidental bond. It didn’t even sound real to himself.

 

“Look, I know you probably don’t want to pretend to be with me. I know it’s probably the last thing you want, but we need to so we can break it” Draco said eventually. Harry turned around slowly.

Draco was propped up on his elbow, watching Harry warily, and Harry suddenly saw red.

“Are you serious?” Harry asked, deadpan.

“Well yeah, you heard what Granger sa-“

“No, I mean _are you serious_ ” Harry to could hear his voice rising.

Draco stood up and slowly walked towards him. Harry couldn’t find it in himself to move away.

“Yes, I’m serious”

Harry opened his mouth to yell, but then Draco’s hands were on him, and the words died abruptly on his lips.

“I can’t keep doing th-“ Harry began, but Draco was leaning in, closing the space between them.

“Sure you can, pretend I’m someone else if that helps”

Harry desperately wanted to scream that _that was the complete opposite of what he wanted_ , that he wanted nothing more than for this to be real, for Draco to be doing this because he liked - _loved_ \- Harry, and not because he had to break the stupid bond. But his hands were traitors, and already he was gripping Draco’s hip, unable to vocalise anything with Draco so close, with every cell of his body magnetized forward.

 

Draco’s breath was warm against Harry’s cheek, lips so close that they seemed to graze across Harry’s cheekbone, just the lightest ghost of contact. Harry shivered and gripped Draco’s hip tighter, wanting to pull him closer, never wanting to let go. Draco’s fingers slid tighter against Harry’s waist, firm and certain, and he sighed contently as he pulled them flush against one another. Harry’s eyes dropped closed as Draco’s lips travelled from his cheek across to his ear, leaving tiny feather-light kisses in their wake.

 

“You know,” Draco whispered, his hand travelling lower to Harry’s hip, “I can actually see the bond”

His pressed a kiss to Harry’s jaw, and Harry tilted his head wantonly.

“You- what?” Harry asked, too distracted to even think straight.

Having Draco against him like this was intoxicating, he felt drunk with it, completely consumed by the feeling of Draco’s warmth, his whispered breaths, the small chuckle that tickled Harry’s neck.

“I can see the bond” Draco repeated softly.

Harry held back a moan as Draco mouthed at his neck, he was desperate for more, desperate to have everything.

 

“What does- what does it look like?” Harry stuttered, Draco’s thumb was circling the skin just above Harry’s hip bone and it was driving him crazy.

“It’s beautiful” Draco whispered. “Like golden silk, the colour of the most glorious sunrise” he murmured, “It spreads between us like lace, the pattern never stops moving”

Harry shuddered as Draco’s fingers trailed up his chest, feeling hot against his bare skin.

“It’s brightest here” Draco said, his fingers pressed over Harry’s heart. “On me too” he added.

“And it’s intricate and complicated. It changes depending on us, too”

 

Draco’s hips were pressed against Harry’s now, and he could feel the hard line of Draco’s erection through those stupid, gorgeous silk pajamas, and he actually whimpered.

“What’s it doing now?” Harry asked, voiced strained, unable to resist giving an experimental roll of his hips.

Draco’s eyes fluttered closed for a second, a soft breath escaping his lips, and when he opened them again, they were intense and full of desire, and the most attractive thing Harry had ever seen.

“It’s perfect” Draco whispered. “So bright and strong, and we’re surrounded by it. You’re glowing with it, Harry”

 

And then he was leaning in and capturing Harry’s lips, and Harry’s knees almost buckled from the feeling. The sheer sublimity of Draco against him, of their lips moving together, the bond bright and alive and glorious in his veins.

 

Part of him was still arguing that he was getting in too deep, that Draco didn’t feel the same, that all of this was for the bond. Every other bit of him was urging him forwards, unable to resist the soft slide of Draco’s lips on his. The sweet taste of Draco on his tongue was enough to have him moaning, deepening the kisses until their hands couldn’t stop moving, touching and stroking and grabbing at every part of one another that they could reach.

 

When Draco rocked his hips, pressing their erections together, Harry could do nothing but moan, walking them over to the bed. Draco went down easily, and Harry had to stop for a moment just to look at him, pajamas dishevelled, cheeks flushed a deep pink, eyes bright and turned on, and cock straining against the silk. He crawled onto the bed above Draco slowly, and watched as Draco looked up in anticipation.

 

“Are you sure?” Harry whispered finally. He was leant over Draco, arms bracketing his head, their hips lined up but not quite touching.

“Yes” Draco replied simply, and then he was pulling Harry down and reconnecting their lips.

 

They rocked together, breathing in each other’s moans, getting lost in the friction between them, until Draco’s hands were stilling Harrys hips. For a second Harry was sure Draco had changed his mind again, but then he was being moved, and suddenly Draco was above him grinning wickedly.

 

Draco dipped his head to mouth at Harry’s neck, and Harry just clung to the short hairs at the nape of Draco’s neck, pulling him closer. _Lips like that should not be allowed_ , Harry thought vaguely as Draco kissed lower, pausing to lick Harry’s nipple.

“Your mouth” Harry panted, “is so _good_ ”

He felt Draco smile against his skin, and then that mouth was kissing down his chest, making a soft trail down his stomach, hot open mouthed kisses drying cool in his wake. Harry could do nothing but run his hands through Draco’s hair, messing it up even more, focusing on the feel of Draco’s lips against his skin.

 

The anticipation grew the closer Draco got to Harry’s cock, aching and straining against the thin material of his boxers, so desperate to be touched. Harry felt his hips lift against the hands anchoring them down when Draco finally got there, the warm heat of Draco’s lips sending sparks of pleasure through his entire body, even through the cotton.

“Oh Merlin” Harry cried, and he could feel his orgasm building already, like his body had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime.

 

Draco’s fingers were toying with the waistband of Harry’s boxers, and the anticipation was becoming too much.

“Please” Harry begged, and he opened his eyes in time to see Draco watching him, eyes half lidded, as he slid Harry’s boxers down so slowly it was torturous. Harry’s cock twitched desperately as Draco leant back over him, he was leaking enough that the head of his dick was slick with it.

 

“You’re so hot” Draco murmured, his hands sliding up Harry’s bare thighs. Harry could only whimper in response, too turned on to be able to articulate anything. His body was singing with it, and Harry was sure that if it was possible to bottle paradise it would be this moment, the feelings inside him. When Draco’s hand finally found Harry’s cock, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. He’d been on edge for too long, too strung out on Draco’s touch to be able to hold off his orgasm.

“Oh, Draco, _fuck_ ” Harry moaned, and then Draco was leaning in, licking and mouthing at the head of his cock, making soft contented noises like it was the best thing he’d ever done.

 

Each little noise Draco made sent vibrations right through Harry’s dick, and had him moaning and fisting the sheets. He opened his eyes enough to watch Draco take his cock into his mouth, moaning softly around its length as he sucked. Harry was sure nothing had ever looked hotter and more gorgeous than the sight of Draco right now. Harry couldn’t resist reaching down to stroke Draco’s cheek, to push the few stray strands of hair from his eyes. Draco looked up briefly, and their eyes meeting felt like the spark of a fire, intense and powerful, and enough to send Harry reeling.

 

“Fuck me” he whispered, needing more, needing everything Draco could give him. And Draco was pulling off his cock, and crawling up the bed above him until they were face to face again.

“Yeah?” Draco asked, his lips brushing Harry’s lightly, as though neither of them could bear to not be touching for even a second.

“Yeah” Harry breathed, kissing Draco deeper and fiddling with the buttons of his pajamas. The more of Draco’s skin Harry revealed, the more he got to touch, and he was running his hands up and down Draco’s chest eagerly, using his fingertips to map every contour.

 

The scars he had made in sixth year were still there, even paler than the rest of Draco’s skin and Harry leant up to kiss them.

“Harry” Draco whimpered.

“I’m sorry” Harry murmured, licking across the thin lines, using his hands to push Draco’s pajama bottoms past his hips.

“It’s okay” Draco whispered, “I’m sorry too”

And then he was capturing Harry’s lips again with so much passion that Harry’s breath was taken away. Through their kisses, Harry heard Draco mutter an accio, the faint whoosh of something flying across the room, and the next moment he had a slick fingertip rubbing at his hole.

 

“ _Oh_ ” Harry moaned, Draco’s finger gentle but sure, just circling the entrance. It felt like every touch between them was magnified tenfold, the smallest brush of skin felt amazing, and something as intimate as this sent waves of pleasure rolling over Harry’s body like waves in a storm.

“Is this okay?” Draco murmured, pressing the tip of his finger in gently.

“Yeah, _oh_ , more” Harry panted. His cock was twitching and leaking against his stomach, so ready to come.

Draco breathed a laugh at Harry’s impatience, but complied, sliding his finger in until his knuckles were flush against Harry’s arse. He was watching Harry with hunger in his eyes, so full of desire that the air seemed to crackle with it.

 

It didn’t take long until Draco was pushing two fingers into his body, and then three, Harry crying out every time they brushed his prostate. Draco crooked his fingers and pressed, and stars burst behind Harry’s eyes, a strangled groan escaping his lips.

“Draco, stop, I’m- I’ll come” Harry whimpered desperately. He was so close to the edge, so close to what he was sure would be the best orgasm of his life.

“Fuck me, please” Harry added urgently, he needed to feel Draco inside him, it felt like the only thing that mattered.

“Oh fuck, Harry” Draco whispered, and then he was moving up the bed, one hand lining himself up, the other reaching out to twine his fingers in Harry’s.

 

Harry savoured the slight burn as Draco pressed forward, his cock slowly filling Harry in the most delicious way. As soon as Draco was fully seated inside him, their eyes met, and there was such fire between them that Harry felt it throughout his entire body. Nothing had ever felt more right that the way their bodies were connected in that moment. Draco was watching him with dilated pupils and kiss reddened lips, his expression one of lust and desire and something harry couldn’t quite pinpoint, but then he was rocking his hips and Harry forgot how to even think.

 

They moved together like their bodies were made for each other, and Harry was sure nothing would ever feel this blissful and glorious again. His hand travelled across every part of Draco he could reach, never seeming able to settle in one place for long, and Draco was squeezing his other hand tightly enough that Harry was convinced he’d never let go.

 

“You feel amazing” Draco moaned, leaning down to kiss and suck Harry’s neck again, and Harry was sure he’d have a bruise later, and the idea just turned him on even more. Their moans grew louder and more desperate as Draco thrust into him harder, both of them pushing one another closer to completion. Harry’s cock ached to be touched, but he couldn’t get his hands off Draco long enough to do anything, and he was sure he wouldn’t need anything more than Draco inside him to finish him off.

 

Draco’s lips found Harry’s again, and their kisses were desperate and broken by their moans and panted breaths, and Harry felt his stomach tighten in that tell-tale way, and could only cry out as his whole body tensed, the most powerful orgasm of his life surging through him. He could faintly feel Draco still inside him, cock pulsing as he came too, their moans filling the room, and Harry could only cling on as he just kept coming, spurt after spurt hitting his stomach as chest.

 

Draco collapsed on top of him a moment later, breathing heavily, heart hammering against Harry’s chest.

“Merlin” he breathed finally.

“I’ll say” Draco mumbled, voice muffled against the crook of Harry’s neck. They didn’t have long to bathe in the afterglow though, because not ten minutes later the floo was flaring in the living room.

“Shit, Hermione” Harry exclaimed, wincing as Draco’s cock slipped from his body as they both moved.

“Quick, get dressed” Draco said, casting a lazy scourgify in Harry’s direction.

 

Were they not going to talk about what had just happened? Were they going to pretend it was nothing? He sighed and put his clothes on slowly, not watching Draco do the same. Maybe he had been stupid to think it meant any more to Draco than that. He felt hurt wash over him like ice water, that something so wonderful and special had meant nothing to Draco, when it had meant everything to Harry.

 

* * *

 

It was hardly an hour later when Hermione successfully broke the bond. The whole time, he’d had to hold Draco’s hands, and look into his eyes, the eyes he’d seen hold so many different emotions, the eyes he loved to see light up with joy, and the eyes he’d probably never see again in anything more than passing.

 

Harry felt empty when it was complete, he could feel the shimmering of the bond inside him dull down until it was nothing, and despite the fact that holding Draco’s hands was no longer as intense as it had been with the bond, it still felt perfect. Harry frowned, had Hermione’s charm not worked?

 

“It’s broken” Draco announced, and his voice sounded strange, but when Harry looked up his expression gave away nothing.

“It is?” Hermione asked, sounding pleased with herself.

“Yes, I can’t see it anymore” Draco replied. He sounded confused about something.

“Well I should go then” Harry said quickly, he was sure he was going to cry. He didn’t want to be here when that happened, didn’t want to see Draco look at him with pity, to know that Harry had fallen for him when to him it was nothing but a mistake. He dropped Draco’s hands like they burnt him, and made for the door before either he or Hermione could say anything, avoiding looking up to see their expressions.

 

* * *

 

Harry couldn’t bring himself to go home, the idea of being alone in that big house after having grown so used to Draco’s presence hurt too much. Instead, he went to Ron and Hermione’s house, Ron immediately offering him a firewhiskey, like the true friend he was. He didn’t push Harry for any information, it was obvious he was up to speed from Hermione and that both of them were concerned.

 

Harry couldn’t help venting though. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this, that he shouldn’t have fallen for Draco when all that had happened was a magical accident, but he _had_. He wanted nothing more than to go back to Draco, to see what they could be without the bond, to date properly, but all of that was completely out of question since Draco didn’t feel the same.

 

He missed Draco’s smile, all his little quirks and habits, he even missed the way Draco would yell at him for not putting away his washing or for leaving books lying around. He missed feeling Draco’s eyes on him, missed the ways they’d touched, even when it had just been the smallest brush of fingertips.

 

He could no longer feel the magnetic pull of the bond, but even without the bond it felt wrong to not be with Draco, it felt like something was missing. It was his own feelings, his own genuine feeling for Draco that were causing that. Somewhere along the way he hadn’t needed the bond to feel all those things.

 

Ron listened intently and didn’t even make any snipes at Draco, maybe he realised it wasn’t the time. Ron also ended up distracting him with quidditch and telling him about all the funny things Harry was missing in auror training. Spending time with his best friend did ease the ache in his chest, even for a short while, and by the time Hermione came home it was late, and they had already fallen asleep drunk on the sofas.

 

* * *

 

Harry awoke in the morning, sleeping half on, half off the sofa, and momentarily wondered where Draco was before it all came flooding back to him. Hermione had put a blanket over him in the night and he felt eternally grateful for his friends, for them always being there for him.

 

“You’re up” Hermione said, as she wandered into the living room, Ron trailing sleepily after her.

“Unfortunately” Harry replied, sadly.

“We need to get you distracted” Hermione said determinedly. She was right, if he was busy, he couldn’t be wallowing in his own self-pity.

“Would you like to help me get ready for the fundraiser tonight?” She asked, already accioing her notes for the speech. Harry’s heart dropped, he’d forgotten about the fundraiser in amongst all of the drama of the last twenty-four hours.

“Hermione, I don’t think I can go” Harry said apologetically. He didn’t want to have to spend the evening socialising with people and pretending to be happy when he felt like this.

“Please Harry, I’ve been planning it for so long, and I got you a date already” she pouted, and Harry knew he couldn’t let her down, he knew all the planning she’d put into this after all. The date couldn’t happen though, he couldn’t imagine going to anything with anyone other than Draco now.

 

Two strong coffees and a breakfast later, and Hermione had convinced him to go, and told him that the date didn’t have to be anything if he didn’t want it to, but that she couldn’t cancel it now with such short notice.

“It’ll be fine Harry, I promise. You can leave early if you want to” She reassured. “I’m so grateful you’re coming”

Harry knew she meant it. She would be distraught if he didn’t go. He was too tired to argue with her about the date, hopefully it was just a friend, for some reason she wouldn’t divulge that information. All she would say is that it would be fine and that he shouldn’t worry.

 

* * *

 

By the time the evening rolled around, Harry felt even less inclined to go than before. His formal robes felt uncomfortable and wrong, and the hole in his heart seemed to have grown impossibly bigger. He was internally toying with the idea of feigning sick, but he would feel so guilty lying to Hermione, especially when he knew how important this evening was to her.

 

“You look lovely, Harry” Hermione said. She and Ron both looked brilliant, dressed in formal robes that complimented one another. Hermione had clearly planned the outfits.

“Thank you” Harry replied, “So do you”

Hermione smiled at him softly before giving him a hug.

“Thank you so much” she whispered, and there was no way Harry could ever let her down.

 

* * *

 

Hermione had informed him that his date would be waiting by the fountain, and the second they apparated to the venue, Harry felt even more unhappy to be there. He didn’t want to go with anyone, to have to pretend that he was fine and enjoying himself. All he could think about was how much he missed Draco, how much he wanted him there.

 

The venue was beautiful though, it reminded him a little of the Great Hall. It was all tall wooden ceilings, and dark panelled walls that shone in the soft glow of the candles that adorned them. Behind the podium Hermione would be speaking at were fresh flowers in simple bouquets, little fairy lights twinkling around them. On one side of the hall, small tables were set up, a handful people already seated, low chatter filling the air. On the other, a wide space was left, more twinkling lights suspended in the air. Floral plumage hung from the ceiling, giving the impression of it being outside, like being on a French terrace.

“I’m sorry, I have to get ready” Hermione told him, “Go find your date”

She indicated to the far wall, where a huge set of patio doors led out to the gardens.

 

The sun was already setting, and all the plants and foliage were bathed in the fading glow, stepping from the hall to outside was like entering a different world. The music and chatter dimmed and seemed to disappear, the cool air and quiet giving Harry a chance to breathe.

 

He followed the small cobbled path between the plants, beautiful blooms of primrose peeking between the stones, and went in the direction of the soft sound of running water. Upon rounding a corner though, he stopped in his tracks.

He had indeed found the fountain, tall and glowing in the evening light, the illumination of little outdoor lanterns making the water sparkle. What was more important, however, was the gleaming blonde hair on the man leaning against it.

 

“Draco” Harry whispered, before he even thought about it. Why would Hermione bring him if she knew Draco would be here? Harry felt a rush of panic as Draco turned to look at him, the meeting of their eyes hitting him like a bludger to the gut.

“Harry” Draco said softly. He didn’t look surprised, and suddenly Harry realised that Hermione had set him up.

 

Neither of them had moved, but they couldn’t take their eyes off one another. Draco’s gaze was electric and even through the hurt, it felt so good to see him.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked dumbly.

“I believe I’m waiting for you” Draco replied. One of them had to move, Harry thought, they couldn’t just stare at each other all night. He somehow couldn’t make his feet work, but then Draco was standing and coming closer, and Harry was captivated.

 

He looked as beautiful as usual, and the evening light shone against his pale skin and hair, more gorgeous than Harry could bear.

“But why?” Harry asked. Draco stopped a step in front of him, and Harry so desperately wanted to close the gap.

“Because I’m your date” Draco replied. His gaze was intense, but he looked unworried, and Harry almost felt stupid for being so confused.

“But you didn’t want this” Harry argued. Draco didn’t want to be with him, why would he suddenly want to be his date?

Draco sighed, and made to reach for Harry, his hand pausing in mid-air.

“I need to explain” he said finally.

 

They ended up sat on the edge of the fountain, the gentle patter of water calming Harry’s nerves.

“I made a mistake” Draco announced suddenly, and Harry looked up. For a second he thought Draco was talking about the sex, about the intimacy between them, but then he was taking Harry’s hand before he could move away.

“Wait, I mean, I made a mistake about the bond” Draco explained. “I thought it was the bond making you act the way you did, I didn’t know if it was real. You pulled away so often that I just assumed it was because you didn’t want this”

“But I-“ Harry began, but Draco hadn’t finished talking.

“When the bond was broken, I still felt the same, and I saw your reaction and realised I’d been wrong about everything”

He looked up to meet Harry’s eyes.

“If I’m right now, if this is real-“ Draco whispered, he looked so hopeful, but so wary, like baring his soul like this wasn’t something that came easily.

“It’s real for me” Harry whispered back, and then he was leaning in to press his lips to Draco’s.

 

The pure, undiluted feeling of rightness flooded his body, and he felt Draco relax against him, reaching up to cup Harry’s jaw like he was something precious.

“I thought _you_ didn’t feel anything beyond the bond” Harry said when they separated enough to speak, their foreheads still touching, like moving too far apart was impossible.

“It turns out a bond can’t _make_ you feel anything” Draco replied.

“Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Yes, she knew a lot more than I gave her credit for. She also saw right through both of us, by the way”

Harry chuckled, he wasn’t in the least surprised.

“Yeah, she does that” he smiled.

 

“How does this feel so right?” Draco murmured, his thumb running tiny circles on Harry’s cheek.

“I don’t know” Harry replied honestly, “Maybe it’s just meant to be”

Draco smiled softly.

“That’s horribly cheesy” he teased, but he was leaning in again, and Harry was meeting him in the middle, kissing him like he had forever to do it, because maybe he did.

 

* * *

 

They made it back to the hall just in time to see Hermione make her speech, and Harry watched her with a tear in his eye, so proud of her and everything she had achieved and was still achieving. She had smiled down at them knowingly from the podium, and even Ron had given him a small thumbs up from across the room.

 

They bumped into Luna on the dance floor, who asked if they’d had a nice weekend off.

“It was very trying” Draco replied, “But turning into one of the best weekends I’ve had”

He slid an arm around Harry’s waist, and a smile broke out on Luna’s face.

“I knew it” She said triumphantly, “You’ve finally worked it out. I knew you would”

She hugged them both tightly, before stepping back to continue dancing.

“By the way” she called, “I kept the ring in case you need it again one day”

 

Once Harry had been persuaded to try to dance, Draco had been particularly amused to find out how terrible he was at it, despite having seen him attempting to dance at the Yule ball.

“I thought you just weren’t trying” Draco said, as he led Harry around the floor, his arm tight around Harry’s waist, holding them pressed against one another.

“No, I just can’t dance” Harry admitted. Draco leaned in until his lips brushed Harry’s ear.

“You’re dancing now” he whispered, his voice low and seductive, and Harry shivered.

“You’re doing the dancing” Harry replied, and he felt Draco chuckle, warm breath tickling his neck.

“True” Draco replied, his hand slipping lower to Harry’s hip, “Would you rather do something else?”

“Hermione did say I could leave early…”

 

* * *

 

They had apparated back to Harry’s bedroom in Grimmauld Place faster than Harry had ever apparated in his life, lips never separating.

“You feel so perfect” Harry confessed between kisses, urgently pulling at Draco’s robes, needing to feel bare skin against him.

Draco just kissed him harder in response, shucking his robes from his shoulders, and unbuttoning Harry’s as fast as he could.

They fell to bed underwear still tangled around their ankles, hands all over each other. Harry was determined to map every part of Draco with his mouth, starting with his neck. Draco moaned beneath him, hips rising off the bed to meet Harry’s as he kissed down his stomach.

“You’re so beautiful, Draco” Harry murmured, revelling in the sight below him, unable to keep his hands off Draco for even a second.

 

“Turn over” he whispered, and Draco was complying, rolling onto his front and pillowing his head under folded arms. Harry smoothed his hands over Draco’s back feeling to muscles tense under his touch. Then he was leaning down to continue his trail, kissing every part of Draco’s back he could until he was mouthing at the cleft of Draco’s arse, Draco moaning and rocking his hips desperately.

Harry slid his hands up from Draco’s thighs to his arse cheeks, gently spreading them until he could see the furled skin of Draco’s hole, and Harry’s cock twitched eagerly.

 

“Harry” Draco begged, and Harry didn’t need any more of an invitation to lean in to lick a long strip from Draco’s balls to his hole.

“Oh” Draco cried, his hips twitching involuntarily as he tried to push closer. Harry moaned softly, pressing his tongue against Draco’s hole more firmly. He could feel his own cock leaking where he was so turned on by it, so turned on by the man beneath him.

 

Draco tasted clean and musky, and so like him that Harry couldn’t get enough. He alternated between long slow licks and flicking his tongue over the rim, listening to Draco’s moans growing more and more broken. When he finally pressed the tip of tongue just past the ring of muscle, Draco keened, reaching back to grab Harry’s hair.

“Fuck, Harry, I’ll come” he whimpered, “Want you in me first”

And Harry was moaning at the thought.

 

He worked Draco open with lube slicked fingers, his hole already relaxed from Harry’s tongue. Harry couldn’t seem to stop talking as he fingered Draco open, telling him how gorgeous he looked, how good he felt. When he finally pressed in, the head of his dick sliding in painfully slowly, all words left him. Even without the bond, the feeling of their bodies connecting was one of dazzling perfection, more flawless than words were able to describe.

 

He rocked his hips slowly at first, watching Draco’s body take him, listening to the beautiful sounds that Draco couldn’t stop making.

“Draco, turn over, wanna see your face” Harry whispered, and Draco was rolling over, leaning up immediately to press his lips to Harry’s. When Harry pushed inside again, they both moaned, and Harry knew nothing would ever sound better than Draco moaning against his lips. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco securely, holding their bodies together, pressing his face into the crook of Draco’s neck. He kissed the sensitive skin there, feeling the way Draco’s cock twitched against his stomach, leaving slick lines as they moved.

 

“You’re perfect, this is perfect” Harry murmured, he could feel his orgasm closing in on him, so he moved faster, trying to push Draco over the edge.

“Harry, _fuck_ , Harry I’m gonna come” Draco cried, and then his cock was pulsing between them, and Harry followed straight after, completely lost in the sensations.

 

* * *

 

They awoke the next morning still sticky (much to Draco’s disgust), but more content than Harry could ever remember feeling. They laid in bed for far longer than necessary, kissing and laughing and talking, and just holding each other.

 

Eventually they got up, showered, and then Draco disappeared downstairs announcing that he was making breakfast. Harry hadn’t realised how hungry he was until that moment, and he got dressed eagerly, walking with more skip in his step than should be acceptable for someone who’d just got out of bed.

 

As he walked past the Black family tapestry though, he paused, stepping backwards to look at it more closely. The scorch marks that had marred it were gone, Sirius and Andromeda’s faces on there looking like they’d never been touched, like they’d always been there in perfect condition. The second thing he noticed was that his face was gone from beside Draco’s, but instead a tiny thread connected him to Sirius.

 

He knelt down on the floor in disbelief, reaching out to touch it as if to check it was real. The magical embroidery felt just as real and true under his fingers as the rest of the tapestry, and he felt himself well up. He was on there as Sirius’ family, as his godson, and Harry could do nothing but stare at it.

 

* * *

 

“Did you do that?” Harry asked when he reached the kitchen. Draco looked up from where he was stirring a cup of coffee, and noticed the emotion on Harry’s face.

“Do what?” Draco asked, innocently.

“The tapestry, how- why did you-“ Harry struggled.

“Because it made you so unhappy, and I’m a curse-breaker, I wanted to do that for you. I did it the day the bond was broken, I guess I wanted to show you that I cared” Draco replied, and he was coming round the table to wind his arms around Harry’s waist comfortingly.

“It’s- I’m-“ Harry began, but he didn’t know what to say. That tapestry as it had been had been one of the few things that Harry really hated about the house, and now it was fixed, he didn’t know what to say.

“You don’t need to say anything” Draco said softly, as if reading his mind.

“I just- thank you” Harry said, and he hugged Draco tightly, breathing in his scent, so comforting and warm.

“Well, I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend if I didn’t make you happy” Draco smiled, and Harry just held him tighter.

“Are you trying to make me fall for you even more?” Harry asked softly.

“Is it working?”

“Yes”

“Then yes” Draco whispered, kissing Harry hard, conveying how much he had fallen too, and Harry thought back to that day when he and Luna found that ring and silently thanked the universe.

 

_Fin_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Flower symbolism used in the story:
> 
> White violets: Let's take a chance on happiness  
> Lilac peonies: Happy marriage, happy life  
> Ivy: Wedded love  
> Primrose: I can't live without you
> 
> This fic was super fun to write (1000% one of my fave tropes), even though it took about 1000 years to get written. I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave feedback if you have the time ✨
> 
> (Disclaimer: I made it all up, and Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.


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